IMPRESSIONS 

OF  THE  ART  AT  THE 
PANAMA-PACIFIC 
EXPOSITION 

CHRISTIAN  BRINTON 


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DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 


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LIBRARY 


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IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  ART 


AT  THE 


PANAMA-PACIFIC  EXPOSITION 


OTHER  WORKS 

BY 

CHRISTIAN  BRINTON,  M.A.,  Litt.  D. 

Modern  Artists.  The  Baker  and  Taylor  Company,  Xew  York,  1908 

Catalogue  of  Paintings  by  Ignacio  Zuloaga. 

The  Hispanic  Society  of  America,  New  Y’ork,  1909 

Ausstellung  Amerikanischer  Kunst. 

Konigliche  Akademie  der  Kiinste  zu  Berlin,  1910 

Die  Entwicklung  der  Amerikanischen  Malerei. 

F.  Bruckmann,  Munchen-Berlin,  1910 

Masterpieces  of  American  Painting. 

The  Berlin  Photographic  Company,  New  York  and  Berlin,  1910 

Catalogue  of  Sculpture  by  Prince  Paul  Troubetzkoy. 

The  American  Numismatic  Society,  New  York,  1911 

Walter  Greaves,  Pupil  of  Whistler. 

Cottier  and  Company,  New  York,  1912 

The  Scandinavian  Exhibition. 

The  American-Scandinavian  Society,  New  York,  1912 

Modern  Swedish  Art  in  Colour. 

Albert  Bonnier,  Stockholm  and  New  York,  1919 

La  Peinture  Americaine. 

Ilistoire  Generale  de  la  Peinture.  L’.Vrt  et  les  Artistes,  Paris,  191,9 
Constantin  MeuniER.  Published  by  the  author.  New  York,  1911 

Catalogue  of  the  Swedish  Exhibition.  New  York,  loio 

{In  Preparation) 

Francisco  de  Goya  and  His  Paintings  in  America. 

Frederic  Fairchild  Sherman,  New  York 

Edouard  Manet  and  His  Paintings  in  America. 

Frederic  Fairchild  Sherman,  New  York 


Copyright,  The  Detroit  Publishing  Co.  ■ Courtesy  of  the  Pennsylvania  Acadenij*  of  the  Fine  Arts 

Colour  Plates.  Ccurtcsy  of  The  Centurj'  Co. 

SKATERS 

BY  GARI  MELCHERS 


IMPRESSIONS 

K 

OF  THE  ART  AT  THE 
PANAMA-PACIFIC  EXPOSITION 


BY 

CHRISTIAN  BRINTON 

(member  of  the  international  jury) 


With  a Chapter  on  the  San  Diego  Exposition 
and  an  Introductory  Essay  on 

THE  MODERN  SPIRIT  IN 
CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING 


NEW  YORK 

JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 
i\I  C M X V I 


~1S<^ 

T 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


Printed  by  Eaton  & GETTiN(if:K,  New  York,  L'.S.A. 
Engraving  by  Walker  Engraving  Co.,  New  York.  U.S.A. 
Colour  Work  by  Ditt.man  Colour  Printing  Co.,  New  York,  U.S.A. 
Binding  by  Grady  Bookbinding  Co..  New  York.  L’.S.A. 

Paper  by  S,  D.  Warren  & Co..  Boston,  L’.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

List  of  Illustrations 7 

The  Modern  Spirit  in  Contemporary  Painting 13 

The  Panama-California  Exposition 31 

The  Panama-Pacific  Exposition 43 

Sculpture — Native  and  Eoreign 67 

American  Painting 87 

Eoreign  Painting — Part  One 137 

Eoreign  Painting — Part  Two 173 

Bibliography 195 

Index  of  Artists  201 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


(PLATES  IN  COLOUR) 

Skaters.  By  Gari  Melchers Frontispiece 

Air.  The  Windmill.  By  Frank  Brangwyn facing  page  52 

Earth  I.  Dancing  the  Grapes.  By  Frank  Brangwyn  ....  “ 

Earth  II.  The  Fruit  Pickers.  By  Frank  Brangwyn  ....  “ “ “ 

Water.  The  Fountain.  By  Frank  Brangwyn “ “ 

(PLATES  IN  BLACK  AND  WHITE) 

PAGE 

Lady  in  Pink.  By  Nikolai  Fechin 12 

The  Panama-Calif ornia  Exposition 

Tower  and  Dome  of  California  Building 30 

View  from  across  the  Canon  de  Cabrillo 32 

Entrance  Facade,  California  Building  33 

Looking  across  the  Esplanade 35 

A Mission  P.\tio,  Southern  Counties  Building 37 

Commerce  and  Industries  Building 39 

Entrance  to  the  Varied  Industries  Building 40 

The  Panama-Pacific  Exposition 

Sculpture  at  Entrance  of  the  Festival  Hall 42 

P.\LACE  OF  Horticulture 45 

Colonnade  and  Palace  of  Fine  Arts 47 

Discovery — Mural  Painting.  By  W.  De  Lel’twich  Dodge 48 

Survival  of  the  Fittest — Sculpture.  By  Robert  I.  Aitken 49 

The  Harvest — Sculpture.  By  Paul  Alanship 50 

Colonnade  Fronting  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  (Night  Effect) 55 

Part  of  the  Court  of  the  Four  Seasons  (Night  Effect) 57 

Rotunda,  Lagoon,  and  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  (Night  Effect) 59 

The  Tower  of  Jewels  (Night  Effect)  61 

East  Facade,  Horticulture  Building  (Night  Effect) 63 

Court  of  the  Four  Seasons  (Night  Effect)  63 


[7] 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued 


Sculpture — Native  and  Foreign 

PAGE 

The  End  of  the  Trail.  By  James  Earle  Fraser 66 

Young  Girl  with  AYater  Jar.  By  Joseph  Bernard 69 

The  Outcast.  By  Attilio  Piccirilli 71 

Crows  and  their  Young.  By  Dagfin  Werenskiold  73 

Count  Tolstoy.  By  Paul  Troubetzkoy 7.5 

Aquatic  Nymphs.  By  Leo  Lentelli 77 

Grandmother’s  Idol.  By  Ermenegildo  Lup[)i 79 

The  Foot  B.\th.  By  Rene  Quillivic 81 

Sphinx.  By  David  Edstrom 83 

A in  erican  Painting 

Torso.  By  Arthur  B.  Carles 86 

Mme.  Gautreau.  By  .John  S.  Sargent  89 

The  Coming  Storm.  By  Winslow  Homer 91 

Note  Blanche  : Study  OF -Jo.  By  James  McNeill  AA’histler 93 

Summer.  By  Frederic  C.  Frieseke  95 

In  the  Sun.  By  Theodore  Robinson 96 

Poppies.  By  Robert  AY.  A’onnoh 97 

AA’histling  Boy.  By  Frank  Duveneck 99 

Spanish  Courtyard.  By  John  S.  Sargent 101 

YIother  and  Child.  By  Gari  Ylelchei's 103 

Paresse.  By  Lawton  S.  Parker 10.5 

PoRTR.\iT.  By  Cecilia  Beaux 107 

The  Ice  Storm.  By  Allen  Tucker 109 

Y’outh.  By  Frederic  C.  Frieseke Ill 

St.  Ives  Fishing  Boats.  By  Hayley  Lever 113 

YIother  AND  Child.  Bj^  John  H.  Twachtman 115 

Gates  AT  San  Pedro  Miguel.  By  .Jonas  Lie 117 

October  Morning.  By  Ben  Foster 119 

The  End  of  the  Street.  By  Gifford  Beal LJl 

The  Emerald  Robe.  By  Robert  H.  Nisbet l'-23 

Y’outh.  By  Josephine  Paddock l^J 

Polo  Crowd.  By  George  AA'.  Bellows l'-27 

My  Family.  By  Edmund  C.  Tarbell 129 

A Mother  and  her  Sons.  By  RockAvell  Kent 131 

Tangier.  By  Alexander  Robinson 133 

Foreign  Painting — Part  One 

The  Green  Sha\vl.  By  (’amillo  Innocenti 136 

Binnenkant;  AAmnter  in  Amsterdam.  By  AA'illem  AA'itsen 139 


[8] 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued 

PAGE 

Winter  in  the  Forest.  By  Anshelm  Schiiltzberg 141 

The  Cripple.  By  Gabriel  Strandberg  143 

Longchamps.  By  Batthyanyi  Gyula 145 

Summer  Night;  Aasgaardstrand.  By  Edvard  Munch 147 

Countess  Batthyanyi  Lajos.  By  Vaszary  Janos 149 

Hungarian  Home  Altar.  By  Javor  Pal 151 

Autumnal  Day.  By  Arnold  Marc  Gorier 153 

Among  the  Birches.  By  Carl  Larsson 155 

A Frosty  Afternoon.  By  Anshelm  Schultzberg 157 

The  Shore.  By  Leo  Putz 159 

Rippling  Water.  By  Gustav  A.  Fjaestad 161 

Interior.  By  Rippl-Ronai  Jozsef 163 

Summer  Night.  By  Franz  von  Stuck 165 

In  the  Rhine  AIeadows.  By  Heinrich  von  Zligel 167 

W INTER  Road.  By  Thorolf  Holmboe 169 

Foreign  Painting — Part  Two 

The  Procession.  By  Ettore  Tito 172 

The  Painters.  By  Felix  Vallotton 175 

Harbour  of  Rotterdam.  By  Albert  Marquet 177 

Seated  Woman.  By  Charles  Cottet 179 

The  Young  Landlady.  By  Jorge  Bermudez 181 

The  Bohemian.  By  Antonio  Mancini  183 

Bathers.  By  Maurice  Denis 185 

AIoulin  de  la  Galette.  By  Vincent  Van  Gogh 187 

The  Communicants.  By  Lucien  Simon 189 

The  Nightingale’s  Veranda.  By  Jose  Malhoa 191 

Interior  of  Cafe.  By  Manuel  Rose 193 


[9] 


■ '-V 


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1*’ 


THE  MODERN  SPIRIT  IN 
CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING 


Internationnl  Secti07\,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco  Courtesy  of  ^ iiliam  S.  ^^timmel.  Ksq. 


LADY  IX  PINK 
BY  NIKOLAI  FF:CHIN 


[12] 


THE  MODERN  SPIRIT  IN 
CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING* 


Jk  CONSIDERATION  of  the  more  recent  phases  of  current  art 
presents  an  appeal  not  alone  stimulating  but  possibly  also  dis- 
I ^ concerting.  And  yet  the  matter  is  not  so  complicated  as  it  would 
appear  at  first  glance.  Those  same  principles  that  govern  every 
field  of  activity  are  operative  in  the  province  of  aesthetic  endeavour.  You 
will  grasp  the  issue  more  clearly  if  you  bear  in  mind  the  all-important 
fact  that  art  is  a social  expression,  that  the  perennial  quest  of  beauty  is  not 
an  esoteric  pastime  or  an  ingenious  puzzle.  It  is  one  of  the  essential  char- 
acteristics of  human  effort  and  aspiration.  There  never  was  a time  when 
man  did  not  seek  to  visualize  his  impressions  of  the  outward  universe  or 
give  form  and  semblance  to  those  ideas  and  emotions  that  surge  so  per- 
sistently within. 

Art  was  at  first  the  handmaiden  of  life.  Each  act  in  the  initial  stages  of 
aesthetic  progress  was  typically  unconscious.  In  due  course,  however,  the 
creation  of  beauty  became  an  end  in  itself,  and  artistic  production  thus 
entered  upon  its  second  and  more  conscious  phase.  Throughout  the  serenity 
of  the  classic  age,  the  inspiring  exuberance  of  the  Renaissance,  and  on  down 
to  modern  times  every  artistic  gesture  possessed  a special  significance  and 
responded  to  some  specific  need.  If  during  the  past  century  art  has  changed 
in  aspect,  it  is  largely  because  society  itself  has  changed.  We  no  longer,  as 
did  lordly  patron,  ecclesiastical  or  royal,  command  the  artist  to  work  for  us.  He 
works  as  a rule  for  himself  alone,  and  one  need  scarcely  scruple  to  term  this  the 
third  or  self-conscious  phase  of  artistic  development. 

For  various  reasons  painting  is  that  particular  form  of  aesthetic  activity 
which  is  most  sensitive  and  responsive  to  external  influences.  With  but 
few  exceptions  the  canvases  to  which  we  are  accustomed  have  not  been 
produced  with  any  aim  or  end  in  view  other  than  to  appease  the  individual 


* Copyright,  1916,  by  Christian  Bnnton. 


[13] 


IMPRESSIONS 


craving  for  graphic  or  coloristic  expression.  Rightly  or  wrongly  the 
painting  we  encounter  upon  exhibition  wall  or  in  the  studio  has  won  its 
release  from  all  explicit  social  obligation.  It  stands  before  us  free  and 
autonomous,  and  must  be  judged  upon  its  own  proper  merits.  That  it  has 
gained  not  a little  by  this  change  of  status  is  evident.  That  in  certain  of  its 
more  acute  manifestations  it  is  paying  the  penalty  of  isolation  is  equally 
apparent. 

Modern  painting  as  such  begins  with  the  dawn  of  modern  society,  with 
the  breakdown  of  the  aristocratic  order,  the  rise  of  democracy,  and  the  rapid 
ascendancy  of  the  scientific  spirit.  Timid  and  perturbed  by  the  transforma- 
tions which  the  Napoleonic  regime  wrought  in  his  beloved  Paris,  Fragonard 
stands  as  the  last  of  the  old  masters.  He  attempted,  with  pathetic  futility, 
to  adjust  himself  to  altered  conditions,  but  the  task  proved  beyond  his  en- 
feebled powers.  He  did  not  possess  the  nervous  vitality,  the  splendid,  spas- 
modic virility  of  his  Spanish  contemporary  Goya.  It  was  David,  ruthless 
and  dictatorial,  who  dominated  the  early  decades  of  the  last  century.  After 
the  rigid  classicism  of  David  came  the  impeccable  academic  propriety  of 
Ingres  and  the  eloquent  romanticism  exemplified  by  Eugene  Delacroix.  They 
each  epitomized  the  temper  and  tendencies  of  their  time.  Painting  was 
no  longer  content  to  minister  modestly  unto  life;  it  had  learned  to  echo 
in  theme  and  treatment  the  social,  political,  and  intellectual  complexion  of 
the  age. 

In  the  special  sense  in  which  it  here  concerns  us,  contemporary  art  did 
not  begin  with  classicist,  romanticist,  or  even  with  the  sturdy  terrestrialism 
of  Gustave  Courbet.  It  started  with  that  prince  of  moderns  the  mundane, 
militant,  Edouard  Manet.  iManet  won  two  imperishable  triumphs.  He 
demolished  the  sterile  prestige  of  academic  tradition,  and  he  taught  us 
the  possibilities  of  painting  as  a thing  existing  of,  and  for,  itself  alone — 
as  something  independent  of  history,  allegory,  or  anecdote.  With  him  the 
artist  cast  aside  Roman  toga  and  peasant  smock.  He  was  neither  imperial 
like  David  nor  a humble  proletarian  such  as  Millet.  He  stepped  before 
us  clad  as  anyone  in  frock  coat  and  silk  hat.  Still,  it  was  not  reserved  for 
the  eager,  ardent  Manet  to  complete  the  emancipation  of  painting  from  the 
trammels  of  the  past.  He  remained  to  the  end  a transitional  figure.  While 
he  freed  art  from  the  tyranny  of  subject,  he  was  not  a true  child  of  sunlight 
and  atmosphere.  All  that  Paris  could  offer  he  avidly  absorbed,  yet  there 


[14] 


CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING 


was  something  more  to  be  gleaned  by  watching  haystack  change  subtly  with 
the  hour  of  day,  in  studying  the  cloud-flecked  bosom  of  pool,  or  the  fresh 
bloom  of  springtime  garden.  Although  the  impressionistic  impetus  emanated 
from  Manet,  it  was  the  patient,  salutary  Monet  who  carried  the  doctrine  to 
its  logical  conclusion.  And  close  upon  the  heels  of  Manet  and  Monet  pressed 
numerous  converts  who  flooded  studio  and  gallery  with  a radiance  ever 
near  at  hand  though  until  then  so  strangely  neglected. 

The  story  of  contemporary  painting  in  its  first,  or  analytical  stage, 
resolves  itself  into  the  struggle  for  light,  and  yet  more  light.  For  centuries 
figure  and  landscape  had  been  bathed  in  brown  sauce  and  blackened  by 
bitumen.  With  but  few  exceptions  all  artists  beheld  nature  through  the 
subdued  tonality  of  the  old  masters.  Though  Correggio  saw  the  tender 
evanescence  of  atmosphere,  and  Velazquez  felt  the  magic  of  its  respiration, 
they  stand  almost  alone  amid  a sombre  assembly.  With  the  moderns  the 
conquest  of  light  and  air  was  by  no  means  confined  to  the  great,  palpitating 
out-of-doors,  to  smiling  field  or  iridescent  stretch  of  water.  It  was  also 
carried  on  within.  Degas  watched  it  filter  through  the  windows  of  the 
foyer  de  la  danse  or  flare  into  the  faces  of  his  ballet  girls.  Besnard  caught 
its  mellow  flicker  from  lamp  or  fireside.  Renoir  adapted  something  of  the 
chromatic  opulence  of  Rubens  to  the  requirements  of  the  new  creed,  and 
even  Gaston  La  Touche,  in  his  St.  Cloud  villa,  bathed  his  delicate, 
eighteenth-century  evocations  in  this  same  fluid  ambience. 

Paris  of  course  proved  the  spot  from  whence  radiated  this  new  gospel, 
just  as,  a generation  later,  it  was  from  Paris  that  was  launched  the  propaganda 
of  the  Expressionists,  who  to-day  represent  the  inevitable  reaction  against 
Impressionism.  Simultaneously  there  sprang  up  over  the  face  of  Europe, 
and  also  America,  countless  acquisitive  apostles  of  light  who  soon  changed  the 
complexion  of  modern  painting  from  black  and  brown  to  blonde,  mauve,  and 
violet.  The  movement  seemed  spontaneous.  In  Spain  it  was  Sorolla  and 
Rusinol  who  popularized  the  prismatic  palette  among  the  vineyards  of  Val- 
encia, along  the  plage  of  Cabailal,  or  in  the  gardens  of  Andalucia.  Far  up 
among  the  peaks  of  the  Engadine,  Giovanni  Segantini,  the  solitary,  heroic- 
souled  Italian-Swiss  painter  perished  in  endeavouring  to  apply  the  principles 
of  Divisionism,  as  he  termed  it,  to  simple  and  austere  mountain  scene.  Dark- 
ness was  everywhere  dissipated.  Under  the  direct  inspiration  of  Degas, 
Alax  Liebermann  undertook  the  task  of  injecting  purity  of  tone  and  swift- 


[15] 


IMPRESSIONS 


ness  of  touch  into  the  Gothic  obscurity  and  linear  severity  of  Teutonic  paint- 
ing. Claus  and  Van  Rysselberghe  in  Belgium,  Thaulow  in  Norway,  Krbyer 
in  Denmark,  and  a dozen  or  more  talented  Swedes  witness  the  widening 
acceptance  of  the  Impressionist  programme.  Apart  from  George  Clausen, 
Bertram  Priestman,  Wilson  Steer,  and  a scant  handful  of  the  younger  men,  it 
cannot  be  claimed  that  Impressionism  has  made  commensurate  headway  in 
England.  The  Scotchmen,  to  the  country,  have  proved  more  sensitive 
and  open-minded,  and,  in  modified  form,  the  feeling  for  atmospheric  clarity 
has  become  one  of  the  characteristic  features  of  the  Glasgow  School. 

In  America  conditions  were  favourable  owing  to  the  efforts  of  certain 
of  our  abler  men  who  lived  and  studied  in  Paris  during  the  early  ’eighties  of  the 
last  century.  The  pioneers  in  this  particular  field  were  Theodore  Robinson 
and  Alexander  Harrison.  Still,  it  must  not  be  assumed  that  American  Im- 
pressionism and  French  Impressionism  are  identical.  The  American  painter 
accepted  the  spirit,  not  the  letter  of  the  new  doctrine.  He  adapted  the  divi- 
sion of  tones  to  local  taste  and  conditions  and  ultimately  evolved  a species 
of  compromise  technique.  Only  one  American  artist,  Hassam,  went  as  far 
as  Monet,  yet  he  has  managed  to  individualize  his  brilliant,  vibrant  colour 
appositions.  In  addition  to  Hassam  the  main  exponents  of  the  new  movement 
were  Weir,  who  has  passed  with  distinction  through  divers  transitions,  Met- 
calf, the  sweet-toned  lyrist  of  the  group,  Simmons,  Dodge,  and  Reid  who 
applied  the  method  to  decorative  figure  composition,  and  the  late  John  H. 
Twachtman  whose  work  soon  became  an  essentially  personal  manifestation. 
Associated  with  the  foregoing  men  in  the  general  aim  of  giving  freshness 
and  verity  to  native  vision  are  Melchers  and  Hitchcock,  who  painted  chiefly 
in  Holland,  Miss  Cassatt,  who  has  long  been  identified  with  Paris,  and  the 
Boston  artists,  Tarbell  and  Benson.  That  certain  of  them  evince  more 
craftsmanship  than  conviction  is  not  a matter  to  be  deplored,  for  they  have 
done  much  toward  revealing  the  possibilities  of  the  modern  palette  and 
proving  the  necessity  for  a more  painterlike  and  less  provincial  conception 
of  their  profession. 

It  has  been  necessary  to  recall  the  general  diffusion  and  wide-spread  vogue 
of  Impressionism  in  order  to  indicate  the  significance  of  an  achievement  which, 
in  the  history  of  painting,  ranks  only  second  in  importance  to  the  discovery 
of  perspective.  The  realization  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  absolute  colour, 
that  what  we  see  is  not  the  actual  object,  but  that  object  conditioned  by 


[16] 


CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING 


varying  effects  of  light  and  shade,  and  that,  in  certain  circumstances,  line 
and  form  themselves  disintegrate,  are  facts  which  brought  about  a veritable 
revolution  in  pictorial  representation.  Artists  became  eager  analysts  of 
nature  and  natural  phenomena.  The  hitherto  undisputed  predominance  of 
subject-interest  almost  disappeared,  and  each  man  sought  to  steep  himself 
in  that  all-pervading  luminosity  which,  for  the  time  being,  seemed  the  sole 
source  of  beauty  and  inspiration.  Certain  phases  of  artistic  effort  did  not,  of 
course,  so  readily  respond  to  the  new  order  of  things,  though  even  portraiture 
and  mural  decoration  ultimately  reflected  the  spirit  of  the  hour. 

While  there  resulted  from  this  scrupulous  study  of  the  optics  of  art  much 
that  was  fresh  and  invigorating,  the  personal  equation  was  nevertheless 
lacking,  or  was  reduced  to  a minimum.  You  cannot  open  the  window  to 
nature  and  close  it  upon  the  human  soul,  and  even  before  the  conclusive 
triumph  of  Impressionism  there  were  signs  of  a reaction.  Analysis  was 
bound  to  give  place  to  synthesis,  and  hence  Impressionism,  which  ignores  the 
individual,  was  supplemented  by  Expressionism,  which  exalts  the  individual. 
Various  names  have  been  given  the  multiple  forms  which  these  ultra- 
modern tendencies  have  assumed.  We  hear,  with  increasing  perturbation, 
of  Post-Impressionism,  Cubism,  Futurism,  Orphism,  Synchromism,  and  a 
bewildering  succession  of  isms  all  more  or  less  closely  associated  in  aim  and 
idea.  The  most  comprehensive  and  characteristic  appellation  is  that  of 
Expressionism,  which,  as  is  readily  perceived,  stands  in  direct  antithesis 
to  Impressionism.  There  are  manifest  differences  between  each  of  these 
isms.  The  inventors  and  promoters  of  one,  repudiate  all  affiliation  with  the 
exponents  of  another,  yet  their  general  significance,  both  popular  and  philo- 
sophic, remains  substantially  the  same. 

In  order  properly  to  appreciate  the  situation  it  is  necessary  to  realize  that 
there  are,  to  begin  with,  no  revolutions  in  art.  The  development  of  artistic 
effort  proceeds  along  definite  lines.  The  various  movements  overlap  one 
another,  and  in  each  wull  be  found  that  vital  potency  which  proves  the  forma- 
tive impulse  of  the  next.  The  aesthetic  unity  of  man  is  as  indisputable  as  is  his 
ethnic  unity,  and,  given  similar  conditions,  he  will  not  fail  to  produce  similar, 
if  not  identical  results.  The  panorama  of  pictorial  or  plastic  accomplishment 
the  world  over,  like  the  phenomena  of  crystallography,  conchology,  or  those 
basic  verities  that  lie  at  the  root  of  all  harmonic  proportion  reveal  but  scant 
variation  from  fixed  rule.  Nature  at  the  outset  managed  to  get  such  mat- 


[17] 


IMPRESSIONS 


ters  systematized,  and  since  then  has  been  satisfied  to  let  things  pursue  their 
appointed  course.  While  it  is  permissible  for  juvenile  or  uncritical  enthusi- 
siasts  flamboyantly  to  announce  revolutions,  at  bottom  it  is  the  more  deliber- 
ate process  of  evolution  to  which  they  are  paying  tribute. 

Why,  then,  the  current  superexcitation  in  art  circles?  It  is  merely  due  to  a 
lack  of  close,  first-hand  acquaintance  with  the  problem  at  issue.  Most  of 
us  see  only  effects,  not  the  causes  that  lead  up  to  these  effects.  The  primitive 
craftsmen,  owing  partially  to  their  rudimentary  command  of  technique, 
pictured  things  synthetically,  and  it  is  something  of  this  same  precious  syn- 
thesis of  vision  and  rendering  which  certain  painters  and  sculptors  of  to-day 
have  set  about  to  recapture  for  themselves.  The  trend  of  art  during  the 
past  few  centuries  has  been  away  from  subjective,  and  frankly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  objective,  representation.  It  is  the  thing  itself  we  have  gradually 
been  forced  to  accept,  not  that  which  it  may  suggest  to  sight  and  sense. 
We  have  little  by  little  stooped  to  a sort  of  debased  ilhisionism  and  in  order 
to  extricate  ourselves  from  the  stupidity  and  stagnation  of  such  a predica- 
ment, we  have  gone  back  to  the  fountain-heads  of  native  art  as  they  may 
be  found  in  Hindu-China  or  Yucatan,  on  the  plains  of  Mongolia,  in  the  basin 
of  the  Nile,  or  among  the  shimmering  islands  of  the  Polynesian  archipelago. 

Less  revolutionary  than  reactionary,  the  modernists  have  reverted  to  an 
earlier  type  of  art,  and  in  doing  so  it  was  inevitably  to  the  East  that  they 
were  forced  to  turn.  The  present  movement  of  which  we  hear  so  much, 
possibly  too  much,  represents  more  than  anything  the  subtle  ascendancy  of 
Orient  over  Occident.  The  first  premonition  of  this  impending  triumph 
was  apparent  as  far  back  as  the  early  ’sixties  of  the  past  century,  when  a 
certain  Mine.  Desoye  opened  in  Paris  a modest  shop  where  she  sold  Japanese 
prints,  pottery,  screens,  and  the  like,  and  succeeded  in  attracting  the  notice 
of  Bracquemond,  Louis  Gonse,  the  de  Goncourts,  and  other  discerning  spirits. 
Scattered  quite  by  chance,  the  seed  bore  fruit  in  various  quarters. 
Though  Whistler  paid  his  tribute  in  parasitic  fashion,  it  was  Manet  who.  in- 
spired by  the  Spaniards  and  freed  from  scholastic  influences  by  the  redoubt- 
able Courbet,  first  seized  upon  the  essentials  of  the  new  art — the  simplicity  of 
outline,  the  juxtaposition  of  pure  colour  tones,  and  the  substitution  for  elabor- 
ate modelling  of  flat  surfaces  without  the  use  of  shadow.  The  virtual  precursor 
of  the|Impressionists,  on  the  one  hand,  Manet  may  also  be  ranked  as  the 
parent  Expressionist,  for  it  was  from  him  that  Cezanne  received  hints  of  that 


[18] 


CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING 


structural  and  chromatic  unity  which,  as  we  shall  see,  became  the  keynote 
of  his  method  and  the  corner-stone  of  subsequent  aehievement.  Yet  it 
must  never  be  forgotten  that  it  was  Courbet  who  at  the  outset  courageously 
spurned  a stilted  and  effete  classicism  and  rudely  dispelled  the  embers  of  a 
burned-out  romanticism.  It  was  upon  his  expansive  peasant  shoulders  that 
Manet,  the  townsman,  climbed  to  hitherto  unattained  heights.  And  it  is  to 
Courbet  and  to  nature,  which  he  worshipped  with  such  passionate  energy, 
that,  once  they  have  ventured  far  enough  into  space,  our  tense  and  pallid 
theorists  must  inevitably  return. 

The  new  art  preaches  before  all  else  the  supremacy  of  the  personal 
factor.  Social  as  well  as  aesthetic  in  aspect,  it  bases  itself  upon  an  unfettered, 
uncompromising  individualism.  We  had  a foretaste  of  this  in  the  capricious 
attitude  of  Whistler  toward  the  world  of  actuality  about  him  which  he  was 
unwilling,  or  unable,  to  fix  upon  canvas.  It  was  he  who  first  inveighed  against 
the  picture  that  simply  tells  a story  or  states  a fact.  With  his  super-exclusive- 
ness we  are  already  well  along  the  pathway  leading  toward  complete  inde- 
pendence of  objective  representation.  The  principle  upon  which  the  new 
movement  is  founded  is,  as  we  have  indicated,  one  of  the  oldest  of  graphie 
expedients.  It  is  the  principle  of  simplification,  of  eliminating  the  superfluous 
and  the  non-essential.  Consciously  or  unconsciously,  it  was  practised  over 
fifty  thousand  years  ago  by  the  caveman  in  his  rock  pictures  of  bison  and 
reindeer.  It  lies  at  the  root  of  all  primitive  artistic  effort,  and  has  been  resur- 
reeted  by  a group  of  men  who,  whatever  their  individual  differences  and 
disagreements,  unite  in  maintaining  that  contemporary  painting  and  sculp- 
ture are  but  slavish  and  cumbersome  forms  of  nature-imitation.  They  hold 
that  the  spirit  has  insufficient  scope  in  a world  so  studiously,  so  palpably  real. 
They  take  refuge  in  a realm  where  the  abstraet  reigns  supreme.  One  after 
another  they  have  cast  aside  the  precepts  of  the  schools,  the  paraphernalia  of 
the  pedants,  and  gone,  so  they  claim,  straight  to  the  source  of  things. 

Glance  at  the  founders  of  the  cult  and  you  will  doubtless  better  com- 
prehend the  situation.  First  you  encounter  Paul  Cezanne,  ever  sane  and 
searching,  extracting  from  the  visible  world  its  voluminal  integrity  of  form 
and  colour.  You  next  behold  Gauguin,  the  so-called  barbarian,  synthetiz- 
ing  life  and  scene  in  far-off  Tahiti  with  a smouldering  splendour  of  tone  and 
stateliness  of  poise  that  hark  back  through  Degas,  Ingres,  and  Prudhon  to 
the  symmetry  and  spaciousness  of  classic  times.  And  finally  you  are  con- 


[19] 


IMPRESSIONS 


fronted  in  Van  Gogh  with  a fusion  of  Gothic  fervour  and  sheer  dynamic 
fury  that  gives  his  tortured  landscapes  or  distraught  peasant  physiognomies 
something  of  the  eternal  throb  of  all  creative  energy.  Each,  after  his  own 
fashion,  was  individual  and  anti-academic.  Each,  after  his  own  fashion, 
strove  to  free  eye  and  mind  from  the  actual  and  the  objective.  Each 
sought  not  the  substance  but  the  sign,  and  that  is  why  together  they  con- 
stitute the  intrepid  trinity  of  the  new  movement.  Troubled  and  inarticu- 
late as  their  utterance  sometimes  was,  they  rank  as  pioneers  of  the  first 
category.  And  furthermore  they  did  not  shrink  from  paying  the  price  of 
their  independence  in  anguish,  isolation,  and  death. 

A perceptible  distance  separates  these  now  classic  pathfinders  from  their 
clamorous  pendants  and  successors.  It  is  a far  cry  from  Cezanne,  Gauguin, 
and  Van  Gogh  to  Henri-Matisse,  Pablo  Picasso,  Francis  Picabia,  et  alii. 
You  are  compelled  to  take  a still  more  extended  stride  in  order  to  find  your- 
self abreast  of  Severini,  Russolo,  Boccioni,  and  the  Italian  Futurists.  Matisse 
presents  a mixture  of  naive  sophistication  and  deliberate  savagery.  Picasso 
deals  in  a species  of  plastic  geometry,  and  Picabia  seeks  to  convey  his  im- 
pressions of  the  universe  visible  and  occult  by  means  of  a series  of  ingeniously 
assembled  cubes.  The  distinction  between  Cubist  and  Futurist  is  that  the 
former  strives  to  express  volume  in  the  most  elementary  fashion  known 
to  human  concept,  while  the  aim  of  the  latter  is  to  create  upon  canvas  the 
sensation  of  ceaseless,  synchronous  motion.  The  one  is  static,  the  other 
kinetic. 

Once  the  importance  of  the  lesson  taught  by  the  pioneer  spirits  had  been 
grasped,  the  field  of  operation,  as  we  have  seen,  rapidly  extended  itself. 
The  backward  swing  of  the  pendulum  toward  the  primal  spontaneity  of 
untutored  effort  followed  as  a matter  of  course,  and  within  a few  brief  years 
we  were  greeted  with  the  apparition  of  Henri-Matisse.  Others,  less  radical 
of  temper,  such  as  Alaurice  Denis,  lingered  appealingly  with  the  Italian 
Primitives,  yet  all  conceded  that  it  was  no  longer  the  exclusive  function  of 
art  to  relate  facts,  but  to  communicate  sensations;  not  to  record  life,  but  to 
interpret  life.  It  was  soon  found  that  rhythm  had  been  neglected,  that  form 
had  lost  its  original  significance,  and  that,  above  all  else,  the  visible  world 
had  ceased  to  be  employed  as  a vehicle  for  arousing  emotion,  but  was  doing 
service  as  the  actual  object  of  emotion. 

As  Henri-Matisse  is  the  accredited  head  of  the  present  movement,  it  may 


[20] 


CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING 


not  be  inappropriate  to  consider  at  somewhat  closer  range  his  personality  and 
principles.  This  arch-enemy  of  convention  inhabits  a charming  villa  at  Issy- 
les-Moulineaux,  in  the  suburbs  of  Paris.  He  is  fond  of  his  garden  and  dogs, 
and  is  a devoted  husband  and  father.  His  studio  is  large,  square,  thoroughly 
workmanlike  and  painted  white  without  and  within.  It  is  here  amid  normal 
salubrious  surroundings  that  he  perpetrates  those  huge,  schematic  panels, 
elementary  essays  in  still-life,  and  primitive  adventures  in  plastic  form  which 
are  acclaimed  in  Germany,  Russia,  and  Austria,  which  make  a sensation  in 
Paris,  and  create  consternation  in  America.  There  is  however  nothing  in 
the  artistic  credo  of  this  mild-mannered  iconoclast  to  frighten  or  confuse. 
Alike  in  word  and  deed  he  typifies  the  customary  reaction  against  academic 
ascendancy  and  the  futility  of  conventional  formulae  which  one  encounters 
elsewhere.  His  ideas  are  concisely  set  forth,  and  his  canvases,  while  they 
may  repel  because  of  their  brutal  insistence  upon  outline  and  broad  spaces 
filled  with  primary  colours,  are  in  no  sense  obscure. 

“I  began,”  said  Matisse,  in  a recently  published  interview,  “like  every- 
body else,  at  the  Ecole  des  Beaux-Arts.  When  I started  to  paint,  I painted 
for  a time  like  everyone  else.  But  things  did  not  go  well,  and  I was  very 
unhappy.  Then,  little  by  little,  I strove  to  paint  not  as  I had  been  taught 
but  as  I felt.  One  cannot  do  successful  work  which  shows  feeling  unless  one 
sees  the  subject  simply,  and  one  must  do  this  in  order  to  express  oneself  as 
clearly  as  possible.  Now,  although  certain  conservatives  accuse  me  of  hav- 
ing dispensed  with  drawing,  harmony,  and  composition,  such  is  by  no  means 
the  case.  Drawing  is  for  me  the  art  of  being  able  to  express  myself  in  line. 
When  an  artist  or  student  renders  a figure  with  painstaking  care  the  result 
is  drawing,  not  emotion.  A true  artist  cannot  see  colour  that  is  not  har- 
monious. He  should  express  his  feelings  by  means  of  the  harmonic  sense 
of  colour  which  he  innately  possesses.  He  should  above  all  express  a vision 
of  colour,  the  resultant  harmony  of  which  corresponds  to  his  feeling.  Now 
take  that  table,”  he  added,  indicating  a table  near  by  upon  which  stood  a 
jar  of  flowers,  “I  do  not  paint  the  table,  I paint  the  emotion  it  arouses  in  me.” 

As  the  connecting  link  between  the  Neo-Impressionists  and  the  Cubists, 
Matisse  occupies  a significant  position.  In  his  search  for  motives  coloristic, 
decorative,  or  plastic,  he  has  gone  by  turns  to  Persia  or  to  Polynesia,  and  has 
produced  effects  that  are  both  reminiscent  and  revolutionary.  He  stands 
as  the  one  artist  of  the  modern  school  who  succeeded  in  giving  painting  its 


[21] 


IMPRESSIONS 


definitive  impulse  toward  the  abstraet.  His  existence  is  inconceivable  without 
taking  into  consideration  his  Impressionist  forbears,  and,  had  it  not  been  for 
him.  Cubism  could  scarcely  have  come  into  being. 

Quite  as  logical  as  had  been  its  predecessors,  the  next  step  was  taken  by 
Pablo  Picasso,  whose  basic  ideas  may  be  found  in  Pythagoras,  and  the  prin- 
ciples of  whose  method  were  long  since  formulated  by  Plato.  Simple  ele- 
mentalism  herewith  gives  place  to  subtle  geometrizing,  with  the  result  that 
we  are  at  last  free  from  all  taint  of  imitation,  and  watch  unfold  before  us  a 
world  of  visual  imagery  accountable  to  itself  alone.  The  austere,  Iberian 
temperament  of  Picasso,  which  makes  appeal  almost  exclusively  through  an 
inherent  plasticity  of  design,  is  supplemented  in  the  work  of  Picabia  by 
a warmer,  more  sensuous  tonality  and  a kindred  desire  to  create,  not  to 
copy.  Call  it  optical  music,  emotional  mathematics,  or  by  whatever  term 
you  choose,  the  production  of  Picasso,  Picabia,  Leger,  Gleizes,  and  their 
colleagues  cannot  be  dismissed  as  mere  impertinent  pleasantry.  Something 
of  that  passionate  self-absorption  which  characterized  the  great  seers  of  the 
past  finds  reflection  in  the  aims  and  activities  of  these  men. 

In  order  rightly  to  appreciate  the  sequence  of  development  let  us  take 
a glance  at  Francis  Picabia  in  his  studio  in  the  avenue  Charles  Floquet, 
Paris,  or  better,  in  the  cafe  of  the  Brevoort,  for  Picabia  is  known  in  New  York 
as  well  as  in  the  French  capital.  Born  of  a French  mother  and  Cuban  father, 
Picabia  is  short  and  dark  with  heavy  frame  and  delicately  chiselled  features. 
^Yhile  his  personality  suggests  intensity  of  feeling,  you  instantly  recognize  in 
him  a lucid,  logical  intellect  with  an  extraordinary  gift  for  abstract  reasoning. 
In  common  with  most  young  Frenchmen  of  artistic  predilections  Picabia  first 
went  to  the  ateliers  for  preliminary  training.  It  was  not  long  however  be- 
fore he  experienced  a profound  distaste  for  the  work  and  teaching  of  his 
preceptors  and  posted  off  to  Southern  France  in  order  to  paint  according  to  his 
own  liking,  amid  resplendent  sunshine  and  the  sheen  of  olive  tree.  His  first 
outdoor  studies,  which  were  impressionistic  in  spirit,  soon  became  individual 
in  vision  and  treatment.  “Here,”  he  one  day  exclaimed  standing  before  a 
glowing  canvas,  “is  a song  of  colour  which,  without  imitation  or  reminiscence, 
induces  fresh  sensations  and  arouses  new  sentiments.  Away  with  form,  and 
all  attempt  at  materialization.  Open  wide  the  doorway  leading  toward  the 
symphony  of  colour!” 

It  was  on  a bleak  Februaiy  afternoon  at  the  Brevoort,  with  the  sparse  trees 

[22] 


CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING 


tossed  about  by  the  fitful  wind,  and  the  motor  busses  buffeting  their  way 
against  the  storm,  when  Picabia  condescended  to  elucidate  for  me  the  inner 
workings  of  the  Cubist  mind.  “Cubism,”  he  began,  “is  not  a conspiracy;  it 
is  a creed.  Every  Cubist  is  different,  yet  collectively  they  constitute  part 
of  the  modern  movement  in  art  or,  rather,  the  art  of  the  future.  The  term 
Cubist,  which,  like  the  term  Impressionist,  was  first  applied  in  derision,  we 
have  adopted  in  all  gratitude  and  good  faith.  The  cube,  you  recall,  is  the 
third  dimension  of  matter — that  of  depth,  volume,  or  thickness.  Now  be- 
cause we  exponents  of  the  new  art  have  attempted  to  express  what  is  beneath 
the  surface — that  which  is  not  perceptible  to  the  eye,  or  to  any  of  the  ma- 
terial senses,  someone  christened  us  Cubists,  or  workers  in  the  third  dimen- 
sion. But  why,  let  me  ask,  stop  at  the  third  dimension,  or  the  fourth,  for 
that  matter.^  There  are  no  limits  to  imagination  and  emotion  save  those 
imposed  by  habit  or  convention.”  The  wind  still  swept  across  the  grey, 
asphalt  spaces  in  front  of  the  hotel  and  whipped  into  submission  man  and 
beast  alike.  Picabia  disdained  the  liqueurs  which  had  been  deposited  upon 
the  marble-topped  table  by  a solicitous  gargon  and  continued  in  measured, 
carefully  modulated  periods.  He  recounted  with  minute  detail  the  inevitable 
transition  which  he  and  his  circle  had  made  from  the  new  to  the  still  newer. 
The  various  members  of  the  original  group,  which  was  called  La  Section  d’Or, 
have  in  brief  gone  their  several  ways,  while  he  in  turn  has  passed  from  Cubism 
to  Orphism,  in  response  to  a call,  real  or  fancied,  from  the  passionate,  fateful 
lyrist  who  epitomizes  the  divinity  of  music  and  song. 

On  concluding,  Picabia  peered  across  the  table  to  see  whether  or  not  I had 
followed  him  with  the  requisite  sympathy  and  comprehension.  I am  proud  to 
record  that  he  seemed  reassured,  yet  all  the  while  I could  not  keep  my  thoughts 
from  the  pathetic  singer  whose  name  the  new  cult  has  chosen  in  order  to 
make  their  programme  clearer  to  the  popular  mind.  I recalled  that  Or- 
pheus not  alone  sang  and  stroked  his  lyre  among  the  sunlit  hills  and  beside 
sparkling  streams,  but  also  down  in  the  gloomy  shades  of  the  underworld, 
where  pathways  were  devious  and  uncertain. 

Although  it  was  not  my  good  fortune  to  assist  at  the  debut  of  the  Futurists 
in  Paris,  I subsequently  encountered  the  exhibition  in  Hamburg,  and  also 
in  Copenhagen,  where  I made  acquaintance  with  the  work  of  these  veritable 
anarchists  in  paint.  In  their  impetuous,  Latin  fashion,  they  go  further 
toward  destruction  and  demolition  than  do  any  of  their  colleagues.  If  Cubism 


[23] 


IMPRESSIONS 


is  a creed,  Futurism  is  a challenge.  This  virulent,  not  to  say  savage,  assault 
upon  aesthetic  convention  was  first  delivered  by  the  Italian  poet  and  pam- 
phleteer Marinetti  at  a public  gathering  held  in  the  Chiarella  Theatre  at 
Turin,  on  the  evening  of  March  8,  1910.  The  meeting  was  stormy  and  tumul- 
tuous. The  opposition  attempted  to  cry  down  Signor  Marinetti,  but  the 
resourceful  propagandist  silenced  the  crowd  by  dexterously  catching  an  orange 
which  had  been  shied  at  his  head.  This  he  peeled,  quartered,  and  ate  with 
engaging  unconcern.  The  incident  saved  the  day,  and  he  thereupon  pro- 
ceeded to  read  the  now  famous  manifesto  of  the  Futurist  Painters,  whieh  may 
be  designated  as  their  profession  of  faith.  Having  stated  their  case,  we  were 
in  due  season  permitted  to  see  how  these  same  ideas  looked  when  trans- 
ferred to  canvas,  and  I do  not  hesitate  to  add  that  the  sensation  they  created 
far  exceeded  the  stir  caused  by  the  Post-Impressionists  and  Cubists. 

Amid  a vast  amount  of  violence  and  bombast  there  lurk,  at  the  basis 
of  Futurism,  certain  valuable  and  invigorating  truths.  As  an  artistic 
demonstration  it  is  virile  and  anti-sentimental.  It  is  exhilarating,  positive, 
and  nationalistic.  In  no  country  save  Italy  could  such  tendencies  have 
taken  form,  for  the  Futurist  art  is  innately  vivid,  colourful,  and  effective. 
It  is  the  desire  of  the  Futurist  to  interpret  life  as  it  throbs  and  surges  about 
him,  to  catch  its  movement,  to  convey  a sense  of  its  complexity,  both  visual 
and  psychic.  Everything  that  one  sees,  thinks,  feels,  or  recalls  may  be 
crowded  into  a Futurist  canvas.  These  men  are  striving,  one  and  all,  to 
destroy  the  traditional  fixity  of  impression.  They  aim  to  demolish  the 
theory  that  a given  scene  is  unalterably  focussed  in  the  eye.  Their  art 
typifies  not  unity,  but  diversity,  not  that  which  is  dead  and  immobile,  but 
that  which  is  vital,  fluxional,  and  dynamic. 

Is  it  necessary  to  lure  you  farther  into  the  feverish,  questing  atmosphere 
of  modernism — into  this  arena  where  the  battle  for  aesthetic  freedom  is 
being  waged  so  fiercely  and  tempestuously.?  You  will  in  any  event  en- 
counter the  same  phenomena  from  Stockliolm  to  Naples,  from  Bordeaux  to 
Budapest.  Young  men  the  world  over  are  striving  as  never  before  to  re- 
juvenate painting.  That  many,  nay,  most  of  them,  are  sincere  is  beyond 
question.  That  they  will  succeed  in  their  efforts  to  create  visual  music,  to 
found  a new  language  of  form  and  colour,  is  a question  which  may  be  dis- 
creetly left  to  the  future.  Meantime,  while  it  can  scarcely  be  maintained 
that  they  have  produced  anything  approximating  the  supreme  sovereignty 


[24] 


CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING 


of  a masterpiece,  they  have  injected  into  the  pictorial  and  plastic  arts  a 
spirited,  energizing  impulse  which  has  already  proved  of  immeasurable 
benefit. 

It  is  futile  to  expend  one’s  energies  debating  whether  such  tentative  mani- 
festations as  those  under  discussion  have,  or  have  not,  any  rightful  place  in 
art.  The  fact  remains  that  they  are  here,  hanging  upon  our  walls,  and  that 
alone  must  go  far  toward  justifying  their  existence.  There  is  scant  doubt 
but  that  much  of  this  work  is  predominantly  occult,  or  even  at  times  posi- 
tively hieratic.  And  still,  despite  what  may  be  termed  its  over-individuali- 
zation, it  presages  a profound  spiritual  rebirth  in  the  province  of  aesthetic 
endeavour.  There  is  little  else  to  the  so-called  revolution  in  art  than 
simply  this.  Its  particularity  of  utterance  will  undoubtedly  vanish,  and  its 
inner  significance  only  will  survive,  since  in  any  event  our  eyes,  after  a brief 
interval,  become  adjusted  to  method  and  are  responsive  to  meaning  alone. 

Though  it  cannot  be  held  that  America  has  taken  conspicuous  part  in 
the  creation  of  these  turbulent  artistic  currents  we  have  not  been  oblivious 
of  their  existence.  The  most  auspicious  and  authoritative  note  has  been 
struck  by  Henry  Golden  Dearth,  whose  recent  canvases  are  individual  in 
conception,  brilliant  in  colour,  and  highly  decorative  in  arrangement.  Im- 
pressionism having  attained  its  final  accent  in  the  delectable  outdoor  confec- 
tions of  Frieseke,  our  less  timid  men  have  turned  to  fresher  fields.  Alfred 
Maurer  and  Arthur  B.  Davies,  already  well  established  along  conservative 
lines,  have  espoused  the  cause  of  Expressionism.  In  addition,  there  are 
others,  including  Steichen,  Sterne,  Weber,  Dove,  Hartley,  and  the  like  who 
have  declared  themselves  pronounced  apostles  of  novelty.  The  combined 
effect  of  these  various  and  varied  foci  of  activity  is  felt  mainly  in  its  secon- 
dary phases,  no  specific  programme  having  been  thus  far  evolved.  The 
local  exhibitions  are  nevertheless  brighter  and  more  stimulating  in  aspect 
than  was  formerly  the  case,  for  which  we  must  thank  the  exponents  of  the 
new  movement,  of  whose  existence  neither  the  public  nor  the  most  indurated 
academician  can  remain  unmindful. 

Great  things  were  freely  predicted  for  American  art  following  the  initial 
influx  of  these  stimulating  and  progressive  foreign  ideas.  It  is  however  only 
vaguely  realized  in  certain  quarters  that,  in  order  to  paint  like  Gauguin  it  is 
necessary  to  live,  think,  and  feel  like  Gauguin,  or  that,  in  order  to  fill  a canvas 
after  the  fashion  of  Picasso,  it  is  essential  to  possess  the  plastic  vision  and 


[25] 


IMPRESSIONS 


profound  cerebral  concentration  of  Picasso  himself.  Mere  imitation,  to  which 
we  are  already  too  prone,  will  never  produce  anything  significant  or  enduring, 
and,  what  should  be  taken  to  heart,  is  not  the  form  but — let  us  once  more  add 
— the  spirit  of  this  work.  The  fact  that  one  finds  in  Picabia,  for  example, 
a mingling  of  logic  and  lyricism  which  derives  direct  from  the  Impressionists 
and  blends  into  the  delicate  exaltation  of  a new  Orphism,  should  inspire 
our  young  men  not  to  paint  polymorphically,  but  look  to  their  own  traditions 
and  sensibilities  and  see  what  they  are  capable  of  bringing  forth.  That 
which  we,  as  a nation,  above  all  else  need  is  a more  robust  and  decisive  racial 
consciousness  in  matters  artistic.  And  it  is  this  lesson  that  the  current 
agitation,  despite  its  incidental  crudity  and  incoherence,  manifestly  inculeates. 

If,  in  fine,  we  are  to  accomplish  something  vital  in  art  we  must  strive 
to  purge  ourselves  alike  from  timidity  and  from  pedantic  prejudice.  There 
is  no  phase  of  activity  or  facet  of  nature  that  should  be  forbidden  the  creative 
artist.  The  X-ray  may  quite  as  legitimately  claim  his  attention  as  the 
rainbow,  and,  if  he  so  desire,  he  is  equally  entitled  to  renounce  the  static  and 
devote  his  energies  to  the  kinetoscopic.  If  the  discoveries  of  Chevreul  and 
Rood  in  the  realm  of  optics  proved  of  substantial  assistance  to  the  Impres- 
sionists, there  is  scant  reason  why  those  of  von  Rdntgen  or  Edison  along 
other  lines  should  be  ignored  by  Expressionist  and  Futurist.  There  is,  in 
any  event,  little  occasion  for  alarm,  since  to  no  matter  what  lengths  our 
restless  Nietzscheans  of  brush,  palette,  and  chisel  may  go,  they  cannot  de- 
stro}^  the  accumulated  treasury  of  the  past.  The  point  is  that  they  will  add 
nothing  thereto,  unless  they  keep  alive  that  primal  wonder  and  curiosity 
concerning  the  universe,  both  visible  and  invisible,  which  was  characteristic  of 
the  caveman,  and  which  has  proved  the  mainstay  of  art  throughout  successive 
centuries. 

It  matters  little,  in  the  end,  whether  the  message  of  art  be  conveyed 
through  the  employment  of  lines,  dots,  dashes,  cubes,  or  spheres.  The  tech- 
nical idiom  is  something  that  alters  with  each  generation,  each  decade,  almost. 
What  is  essential  is  that  the  general  public,  and  not  a few  of  the  painters,  too, 
be  continually  awakened,  shocked  if  necessary,  into  a realization  of  the 
fact  that  art  is  a living  organism  which  must  reflect  the  temper  of  its  time 
or  degenerate  into  a sterile  and  soulless  formula.  The  Futurists,  in  anar- 
chistic frenzy,  call  upon  us  to  demolish  the  museums  and  obliterate  all  con- 
nexion with  an  effete  and  futile  past.  No  one  else  would  be  willing  to  ven- 


[26] 


CONTEMPORARY  PAINTING 


ture  quite  so  far,  and  yet  it  behoves  us  to  inquire  whether  there  is  anything 
wrong  with  the  art  to  which  we  have  long  been  placidly  accustomed. 

Reference  has  been  made  to  the  penalty  that  painting  has  been  forced 
to  pay  for  pursuing  its  policy  of  aloofness,  for  losing  direct  contact  with 
daily  life  and  need.  The  fact  has  never,  it  seems,  been  more  apparent  than 
at  the  present  time.  Not  only  has  the  breach  between  painter  and  patron 
grown  wider,  but  the  barrier  between  the  artist  and  the  public  has,  in  cer- 
tain instances,  become  wellnigh  impassable.  Though  neither  side  is  wholly 
to  blame,  both  are  clearly  at  fault.  Cubism,  Futurism,  Orphism,  Vorticism, 
and  the  like  are  not  diseases,  they  are  symptoms.  For  the  disease  itself, 
if  such  it  be,  one  must  look  farther  afield.  Survey  the  achievement  of  the 
ages  and  you  cannot  fail  to  note  that  modern  society  offers  less  and  less 
scope  for  that  patient,  often  anonymous  effort  which  fostered  the  master- 
pieces, pictorial  and  plastic,  of  preceding  generations.  Contemporary  art  is 
for  the  most  part  paraded  before  the  common  gaze  for  a few  days,  weeks,  or 
months,  and  then  immured  in  vast,  impersonal  edifices  where  it  is  inspected 
by  the  incurious  and  indifferent  on  Sundays  and  holidays.  The  conditions 
under  which  it  is  both  produced  and  exhibited  could  scarcely  be  more  false 
and  unfruitful.  We  have  in  brief  taken  from  the  artist  much  that  was  for- 
merly his,  and  he  doubtless  feels  forced  to  call  attention  to  his  existence  in 
ways  that  are  often  purposely  sensational. 

It  is  either  immature  or  indurate  to  condemn  or  deride  the  countless  isms 
that  now  and  then  disturb  the  sometimes  too  tranquil  surface  of  contempor- 
ary art.  There  is  in  each  a germ  of  verity  and  a wholesome  fund  of  fermenta- 
tion. And  furthermore  the  latter-day  painter  or  sculptor  is  by  no  means 
unique  in  his  desire  to  create  new  forms  or  recombine  old  ones.  Correspond- 
ing changes  are  taking  place  in  music,  poetry,  the  theatre,  and  the  dance. 
In  confronting  these  more  advanced  manifestations  of  the  modern  spirit  we 
should  strive  in  as  far  as  possible  to  place  ourselves  in  the  position  of  the 
artist  himself,  for,  whatever  his  title  to  fame  or  oblivion,  he  in  no  sense  stands 
alone.  He  is,  let  us  remember,  but  the  eloquent  and  responsive  offspring  of 
his  particular  day  and  generation.  Current  artistic  endeavour  favours  the 
frankly  intensive  appeal  rather  than  the  mere  materialization  of  external 
appearances.  With  the  ancients  painting  remained  a submissive  servant. 
With  Whistler  it  became  an  aesthetie  adventure.  With  us  it  is  more  and 
more  assuming  the  aspect  of  a subjective  experience. 


[27] 


f 


THE  PANAMA-CALIFORNIA 
EXPOSITION 


Panama-California  Exposition,  San  Diego  Photograph  by  Francis  Bruguiere 

TOWER  AND  DOME  OF  CALIFORNIA  BUILDING 
CRAM,  GOODHUE,  AND  FERGUSON,  ARCHITECTS 


[30] 


THE  PANAMA-CALIFORNIA 
EXPOSITION 


IT  must  be  confessed  that  the  congenital  penchant  for  hyperbole  which 
obtains  west  of  the  Mississippi  led  one  to  be  cautious,  not  alone  of 
the  Grand  Canon,  but  of  the  eloquently  exploited  expositions  at  San 
Diego  and  San  Francisco.  Superlatives  not  unwarrantably  make  for  sus- 
picion, yet  in  none  of  these  instances  was  there  occasion  for  undue  conserva- 
tism. Like  the  thumb-print  of  God  pressed  into  the  surface  of  the  earth 
so  that  man  may  forever  identify  His  handiwork,  the  Canon  transcends 
the  possibilities  of  verbal  or  pictorial  expression.  Although  by  no  means  so 
ambitious  as  its  competitor,  or  rather  its  complement,  farther  northward 
along  the  historic  Camino  Real,  the  Panama-California  Exposition  had  scant 
reason  to  fear  comparison  with  the  Panama-Pacific,  of  which  it  was  both  the 
logical  and  chronological  prologue.  Restricted  in  area  though  rich  in  sug- 
gestion, the  San  Diego  Exposition  was  a synthesis  of  the  spacious  Southwest. 
It  seemed  to  have  sprung  spontaneously  from  the  soil  and  the  vivid  race  con- 
sciousness of  those  who  inhabit  this  vast  and  fecund  hinterland.  Regional, 
in  the  sense  that  the  recent  Baltic  Exposition  at  Malmd,  and  the  Valencian 
Exposition  of  1909  were  regional,  it  was  at  once  more  concentrated  and  more 
characteristic  than  either  of  those  memorable  displays.  Though  you  may 
have  seen  many  expositions  you  have  encountered  none  like  this  blue-tiled, 
white-walled  city,  set  amid  luxuriant  semi-tropical  vegetation  and  flanked 
on  one  side  by  a deeply  incised  arroyo,  and  on  the  other  by  the  azure  expanse 
of  the  sea.  On  crossing  the  majestic  Puente  Cabrillo  you  entered  the  Plaza 
de  Cahfornia,  or  California  Quadrangle,  the  architecture  of  which  furnished 
the  keynote  of  the  exposition.  To  the  left  was  the  California  Building  which 
exemplified  the  cathedral  type,  to  the  right  was  the  Fine  Arts  Building  which 
conformed  to  the  better-known  mission  style.  These  latter  structures  are  per- 
manent, and  are  not  only  a credit  to  the  exposition  and  municipal  authorities. 


[31] 


IMPRESSIONS 


Panama-California  Exposition,  San  Diego 


VIEW  FROM  ACROSS  THE  CANON  DE  CARRILLO 

but  reveal  in  new  and  congenial  light  the  varied  talent  of  their  designer,  Mr. 
Bertram  G.  Goodhue.  At  San  Diego  you  had  in  brief  something  that  at 
once  struck  a picturesque  and  appropriate  note.  The  remaining  buildings, 
which  were  of  composite  authorship,  all  continued  the  Spanish-Colonial  motive 
with  conspicuous  success.  None  of  them  was  in  the  least  out  of  harmony  with 
the  general  scheme,  and  there  was  not  one  that  did  not  display  uncommon 
capacity  for  the  assimilation  and  adaptation  of  this  ornate  and  effective 
architectural  style. 

It  was  impossible  not  to  respond  to  the  seductive  flavour  and  opulent  fancy 
of  such  an  offering  as  confronted  one  at  Balboa  Park,  a large  measure  of  the 
success  of  which  was  due  to  the  creative  energy  and  vision  of  the  director  of 
works,  Mr.  Frank  P.  Allen,  Jr.  Climatic  conditions  and  lavish  planting 
effects  here  royally  concur  in  assisting  the  architect.  Almost  every  conceiv- 
able flower,  shrub,  and  tree  attains  unwonted  magnificence.  The  sun  is 
brilliant  but  does  not  burn,  and  the  close  proximity  of  the  sea  softens  and 
freshens  the  atmosphere  without  undue  preponderance  of  moisture.  Pro- 
ceed along  the  acacia-lined  Prado  which  constitutes  the  main  axis  of  the 
permanent  plan,  stroll  under  the  cloisters,  linger  in  the  patios,  or  follow  one 
of  the  countless  calcadas,  or  pathways,  skirting  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  you 


[32] 


Fanama-Cnlifornia  Exposition,  San  Diego  Photograph  by  Francis  Brugui'ere 

ENTRANCE  FACADE,  CALIFORNIA  BUILDING 


[33] 


THE  PANAMA-CALIFORNIA  EXPOSITION 


Panoma-California  Exposition,  San  Diego 


LOOKING  ACROSS  THE  ESPLANADE 


will  experience  the  sensation  of  being  in  the  gardens  of  a typical  Mexican 
mission.  The  mind  indeed  travels  farther  back — back  to  the  Alcazar  of 
Sevilla,  the  Generalife,  and  to  remote  and  colourful  Byzantium.  Unlike 
most  of  its  predecessors,  the  San  Diego  Exposition  did  not  convey  an  impres- 
sion of  impermanency.  The  luxuriance  of  the  floral  and  arboreal  accompani- 
ments effectually  dispelled  any  such  feeling.  Yet  behind  this  was  a distinct 
sense  of  inevitability  which  derived  from  the  fact  that  here  was  something 
which  was  at  one  with  the  land  and  its  people — a visible  expression  of  the 
collective  soul  of  the  Southwest. 

It  need  scarcely  be  assumed,  however,  that  this  radiant  city  which  smiled 
down  from  its  green-capped  acropolis  came  into  being  over  night,  as  it  were. 
Behind  this  symphony  of  beauty  was  a background  of  solid  endeavour  and 
serious  research  along  widely  divergent  lines.  Mr.  Goodhue’s  California 
Building  is  a successful  adaptation  to  exposition  exigencies  of  the  impres- 
sively ornate  cathedral  at  Oaxaca,  Mexico.  The  New  Mexico  State  Build- 
ing, with  its  more  severe  silhouette  and  massive  weathered  beams  protruding 
from  the  exterior  walls,  was  a free  amplification  of  the  famous  adobe  mission 
of  the  Indian  pueblo  of  Acoma,  the  “sky  city,”  dating  from  1699.  The  funda- 


[35] 


IMPRESSIONS 


mentally  composite  parentage  of  Spanish  architecture  has  never  been  better 
illustrated  than  in  these  various  structures  where  you  were  confronted  by 
turns  with  details  Roman  and  Rococo,  Late  Gothic  and  Renaissance,  Classic 
and  Churrigueresque.  Still,  despite  this  manifest  complexity  of  origin  and 
inspiration,  the  ensemble  achieved  the  effect  of  complete  unity.  The  very 
flexibility  of  the  style  employed  proved  its  greatest  asset  when  it  came  to 
solving  problems  of  such  a nature.  You  in  short  witnessed  at  San  Diego  the 
veritable  revival  of  Spanish-Colonial  architecture,  and  you  will  scarcely  fail 
to  concede  that  as  a medium  it  is  as  perfectly  adapted  to  the  physical  and 
social  conditions  of  the  Southwest  as  is  the  English-Colonial,  or  Georgian, 
to  the  needs  of  the  East.  Had  the  Panama-California  Exposition  accom- 
plished nothing  else,  this  rehabilitation  of  our  Spanish-Colonial  heritage 
would  have  amply  justified  its  existence. 

The  same  consistency  of  aim  and  idea  which  characterized  the  architec- 
tural features  of  the  exposition  obtained  in  other  fields  of  activity.  It  was 
the  intention  of  those  in  charge  to  show  processes  rather  than  products,  and 
nowhere  was  this  more  significantly  set  forth  than  in  the  California  Build- 
ing, which  enshrined  examples  of  the  stupendous  plastic  legacy  of  the  Maya 
civilization,  and  in  the  Indian  Arts  Building,  which  was  devoted  to  displays 
of  the  craftsmanship  of  the  present-day  Indian  of  the  Southwest.  To  begin 
with  the  deep-rooted  substratum  of  primitive  effort  that  stretches  back  into 
dim  antiquity,  and  to  follow  its  development  down  to  modern  days,  entails 
no  small  amount  of  labour  and  scholarship.  Eor  this  task  the  exposition 
authorities  were  fortunate  in  securing  the  services  of  Dr.  Edgar  L.  Hewett  and 
a corps  of  competent  assistants  from  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  Washing- 
ton. Dr.  Hewett  is  one  of  that  rapidly  increasing  number  of  scientists  who 
feel  the  indissoluble  connexion  between  ethnology  and  aesthetics.  Nothing 
finer  has  thus  far  been  accomplished  than  his  installation  of  the  several  ex- 
hibits in  this  particular  section.  The  collections  of  pottery,  rugs,  baskets, 
and  domestic  utensils,  and  the  detailed  series  of  drawings  illustrating  that 
graphic  symbolism  which  is  an  inherent  element  in  all  aboriginal  artistic  ex- 
pression, were  as  extensive  as  they  were  stimulating.  On  comparing  these 
latter  with  the  canvases  devoted  to  native  type  and  scene  in  the  Fine  Arts 
Building,  one  was  forced  to  conclude  that  the  capacity  for  pictorial  repre- 
sentation has  diminished  rather  than  increased  with  the  advent  of  our  latter- 
day  art  schools  and  academies. 


[36] 


Panama-California  Exposition,  San  Diego 


A MISSION  PATIO 

SOUTHERN  COUNTIES  BUILDING 


[37] 


/rf 


< 


1 


•V 


THE  PANAMA  CALIFORNIA  EXPOSITION 


You  can  scarcely  expect  perfection,  even  in  such  an  exposition  as  that 
at  San  Diego,  and  it  is  in  the  choice  of  paintings  for  this  same  Fine  Arts  Build- 
ing that  one  may  point  to  a certain  lapse  from  an  otherwise  consistently 
maintained  standard.  It  is  not  that  the  exhibitors  in  question  are  not  ad- 
mirable artists.  It  is  simply  that  their  particular  contribution  did  not  fit 
into  what  in  other  respects  seemed  a carefully  matured  programme.  San 
Diego  is  so  rich  in  the  fundamental  sources  of  beauty  and  feeling,  that,  had 


Panama-California  Exposition,  San  Diego 


COMMERCE  AND  INDUSTRIES  BUILDINGS 

there  been  no  paintings  whatever  on  view,  one  would  have  had  scant  cause 
for  complaint.  The  welcome  absence  of  the  customary  flatulent  and  dropsical 
statuary,  which  was  such  a happy  feature  of  the  exterior  arrangements,  might 
well  have  been  supplemented  by  the  exclusion  of  the  sophisticated  canvas. 

Intensive  rather  than  extensive  in  appeal,  basing  itself  frankly  upon  local 
interest  and  tradition,  conscious  of  its  inheritance  and  looking  with  confidence 
toward  the  future,  the  Panama-California  Exposition  proved  a model  of  its 
kind.  If  this  gleaming  little  city  perched  upon  its  green-crested  mesa  taught 
anything,  it  taught  that  the  most  precious  things  in  life  and  art  are  those 
which  lie  nearest  the  great,  eloquent  heart  of  nature.  The  subtle  process  of 
interaction  that  forever  goes  silently  on  between  man  and  his  surroundings, 
and  the  identity  between  that  which  one  sees  and  feeds  upon  and  that  which 
one  produces,  are  facts  which  you  found  convincingly  vindicated  by  the  San 


[39] 


IMPRESSIONS 


Diego  Exposition.  It  was  more  than  a mere  show-window  of  the  Southwest. 
Alike  in  its  architecture  and  its  specific  offerings  it  typified  the  richness  and 
romance  not  alone  of  New  Spain  but  of  immemorial  America. 

There  is  every  reason  to  hope  that  the  expositions  of  the  future  may, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  pattern  themselves  upon  that  of  San  Diego. 
We  have  for  generations  been  surfeited  with  ambitious  international  and 
universal  undertakings  which  invariably  leave  in  their  wake  a sense  of 
physical  fatigue  and  mental  confusion,  not  to  say  chaos.  The  scramble  for 
cosmopolitanism  is  in  itself  one  of  the  surest  indications  of  provinciality.  It 
behoves  us  in  matters  aesthetic  to  foster  individual,  independent  initiative, 
as  well  as  to  familiarize  ourselves  with  the  achievement  of  our  neighbours 
from  overseas.  The  lesson  which  may  be  learned  from  the  simple,  silent 
craftsman  of  the  Southwest — the  native  weaver  or  potter — is  one  that  may 
well  be  taken  to  heart. 


Panama-California  Exposition,  San  Diego 


ENTRANCE  TO  THE  VARIED  INDUSTRIES  BUILDING 


[40] 


THE  PANAMA  PACIFIC 
EXPOSITION 


Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


SCULPTURE  AT  ENTRANCE  OF  THE  FESTIVAL  HALL 
BY  SHERRY  E.  FRY 


THE  PANAMA-PACIFIC 
EXPOSITION 


The  ideals  which  animated  the  makers  of  the  Panama-Pacific  Ex- 
position were  different  from  those  that  served  to  inspire  the  creators 
of  the  Panama-California.  It  was  not  simply  the  civilization  west 
of  the  Rockies  which  they  aimed  to  exploit.  Their  scope  was  not  local, 
nor  even  national.  It  was  international.  Confronted  by  such  a situation 
the  architects,  sculptors,  and  painters  were  forced  to  extend  their  field 
of  activity  and  broaden  their  sympathies.  No  single  style  would  have 
sufficed.  Diverse  factors  had  to  be  pressed  into  service,  and  out  of  this 
diversity  it  was  necessary  to  evolve  a sense  of  harmonious  unity.  More 
practical  than  traditional,  the  problem  entailed  tact,  resourcefulness,  and 
ingenuity.  Though  it  was  difficult  save  in  a broad  way  to  place  restrictions 
upon  form,  it  was  quite  possible  to  control  the  element  of  colour,  and  herein 
lies  the  exposition’s  claim  to  originality.  Festal  and  jubilant  in  detail,  the 
Panama-Pacific  was  brilliantly  chromatic  in  general  aspect.  The  whole  was 
fused  into  a colour  fantasia  at  once  logical  and  agreeable.  Had  its  magic 
been  dispelled  the  ensemble  would  have  lapsed  into  something  closely  re- 
sembling ornate  commonplaceness. 

A preliminary  stroll  along  the  principal  concourses  and  through  the  main 
courts  was  sufficient  to  convince  one  of  the  eclectic  character  of  the  architecture 
of  the  San  Francisco  Exposition.  Entering  from  Scott  Street  you  found  your- 
self in  a stately  formal  garden  which  was  French  in  inspiration.  To  the  left  was 
the  Palace  of  Horticulture,  Byzantine  in  origin  and  Gallic  in  ornamentation. 
On  the  right  was  Festival  Hall,  which  recalled  the  Theatre  des  Beaux-Arts, 
Paris,  Directly  facing  you  was  the  Tower  of  Jewels,  which  based  itself  upon 
various  Italian  Renaissance  prototypes.  Recalling  the  spacious  area  in  front 
of  St.  Peter’s  in  Rome,  the  Court  of  the  Universe  was  also  Italian  Renais- 
sance in  persuasion,  while  the  pardonably  pretentious  Column  of  Progress 


[43] 


IMPRESSIONS 


resembled  similar  shafts  dedicated  to  Trajan  and  Marcus  Aurelius.  It  would 
be  superfluous  to  trace  in  detail  the  genealogy  of  the  exposition  architecture. 
You  had  the  intricacy  of  Spanish  Gothic,  the  massive  simplicity  of  the 
Romanesque,  the  fertility  of  the  Renaissance,  and  that  serenity  of  spirit 
which  remains  the  imperishable  legacy  of  the  Greeks.  From  the  standpoint 
of  serious  criticism,  if  such  an  attitude  be  not  incompatible  with  our  theme, 
the  best  efforts  were  the  Palace  of  Horticulture  and  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts. 
The  former  was  one  of  the  most  diverting  and  satisfactory  of  the  entire  group. 
The  latter,  for  breadth  of  conception  and  nobility  of  design,  stood  unap- 
proached. A special  feature  was  made  of  the  several  contiguous  courts,  all  of 
which  were  given  euphonious  names.  They  varied  in  merit,  and  in  general 
may  be  said  to  have  been  more  expositional  than  inspirational. 

There  were  eleven  units  in  the  central  plan,  eight  of  which  were  assembled 
within  the  so-called  “walled  city.”  To  each  of  these,  the  basic  tonality  of 
which  was  the  now  popular  travertine,  the  director  of  colour  applied  his 
favourite  tints.  Beyond  question  the  result  was  stimulating,  and,  in  the  main, 
successfnl.  The  least  variegated,  and  most  effective,  was  the  Palace  of  Horti- 
culture, where  the  only  colour  used  was  lattice  green.  In  a building  such  as 
the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  the  structural  integrity  was  not  enhanced  by  the 
profuse  employment  of  ochre,  verde  antique,  burnt  orange,  and  Pompeian  red. 
Granting  the  ephemeral  nature  of  the  task  in  hand  it  nevertheless  seems  that 
colour  should  on  principle  be  less  superficial  than  inherent.  Mr.  Guerin’s 
inspiration  was  frankly  scenic.  He  gave  ns  a pastel  city,  joyously  poly- 
chromatic, replete  with  beauty,  and  of  rainbow  evanescence. 

It  is  difficult  to  plan  an  exposition  such  as  the  Panama-Pacific  without 
facing  certain  serious  issues,  not  the  least  of  which  may  be  designated  as  the 
plastic  problem.  Boldly  to  suppress  sculpture  as  they  did  at  San  Diego 
was  of  course  out  of  the  question  in  an  undertaking  of  similar  pretension. 
There  was  apparentl}'^  nothing  to  do  save  adhere  to  the  customary  symbolic 
tradition,  to  fall  back  upon  perennial  abstractions  more  or  less  loosely  em- 
bodied in  relief  or  in  the  round.  The  sculpture  at  San  Francisco,  while 
suffering  from  the  usual  congenital  defects,  was,  however,  more  closely  related 
to  the  architectural  ensemble  than  has  frequently  been  the  case.  Grate- 
fnl  mention  should  be  made  in  this  connexion  of  Mr.  Putnam’s  Mermaids, 
adorning  the  fountains  in  the  South  Gardens,  of  Mrs.  Burroughs’s  Fountain  of 
Youth  in  the  east  tower  colonnade,  of  Mr.  iManship’s  four  groups  in  the  Court 


[44] 


[45] 


PALACE  OF  HORTICULTURE 
BAKEWELL  AND  BROWN,  ARCHITECTS 


THE  PANAMA-PACIFIC  EXPOSITION 


of  the  Universe,  and  Mr.  Fraser’s  The  End  of  the  Trail  at  the  entrance  to  the 
Court  of  Palms.  As  for  the  generality  of  the  work  in  this  particular  medium 
it  scarcely,  save  in  a few  instances,  transcended  mediocrity.  One  contem- 
plated such  set  pieces  as  the  Nations  of  the  East  and  the  Nations  of  the  West 
with  but  scant  enthusiasm,  and  when  it  came  to  monuments  like  the  Genius 
of  Creation  one  conceded  the  lofty  seriousness  of  purpose  while  at  the  same 
time  regretting  that  such  concepts  have  in  large  measure  ceased  to  move 
or  inspire.  After  exhibiting  manifest  promise,  our  sculpture  seems  to  have 
remained  stationary.  Thus  far  we  have  assuredly  failed  to  produce  a mighty 
emotionalist  in  marble,  such  as  Rodin,  or  a sturdy-souled  apostle  of  labour, 
such  as  Constantin  Meunier. 

What  has  been  said  of  the  sculpture  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition 
applies  in  a measure  to  the  mural  decoration.  These  ambitious  panels  seemed 
as  a general  thing  to  lack  conviction.  Mr.  Dodge’s  apotheosis  of  the  Atlan- 
tic and  Pacific  in  the  Tower  of  Jewels,  and  Mr.  Brangwyn’s  series  dedicated  to 
the  Air,  Earth,  Fire,  and  Water  were  distinctly  better  than  w^as  the  work  of 


Panama- Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 
COLONNADE  AND  PALACE  OF  FINE  ARTS 


BERNARD  R.  MAYBECK,  ARCHITECT 


[47] 


IMPRESSIONS 


Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 

DISCOVERY— MURAL  PAINTING  IN  THE  TOWER  OF  JEWELS  BY  W.  DE  Lf:FTWICH  UOOGE 


their  colleagues.  Full  of  verve  and  true  to  the  limitations  of  his  craft,  Mr. 
Dodge  achieved  a fine  effect.  iVhvays  opulent  in  line  and  ample  in  pattern, 
Mr.  Brangwyn’s  subjects,  each  of  which  was  treated  in  duplicate,  revealed  this 
artist  in  congenial  vein.  He  takes  us  back,  in  these  broadly  handled  com- 
positions, to  the  days  when  the  world  was  young  and  the  primal  wonder 
of  man  began  to  manifest  itself  in  countless  questing  ways.  There  is  a definite 
pictorial  idea  in  each  of  these  rich-toned  panels.  The  figures  group  them- 
selves logically  and  move  in  unison.  You  are  never  in  doubt  as  to  the  painter's 
meaning.  His  method  is  not  that  of  the  vague  symbolist.  It  is  that  of  the 
earnest-minded  seeker  after  the  inherent  possibilities  of  graphic  represen- 
tation. Conceived  in  less  serious  spirit,  the  other  murals  served  their  pur- 
pose sufficiently  well.  Mr  Simmons’s  scheme  was  full  of  technical  novelty 
and  interest.  Mr.  Reid’s  decorations  in  the  dome  of  the  rotunda  of  the 
Palace  of  Fine  Arts  constituted  a joyous  cycle,  and  Mr.  Hassam's  eontribution 
to  the  Court  of  Palms  was  instinct  with  lyric  lightness.  Whatever  their 
shortcomings  in  the  matter  of  fundamental  ideas  or  depth  of  feeling,  these 
latter  men  approached  their  task  in  appropriately  festal  mood,  which,  after 
all,  was  the  important  consideration  in  the  given  cireumstance. 


[48] 


THE  PANAMA-PACIFIC  EXPOSITION 


While  it  is  difficult  to  condense  one’s  impressions  of  the  Panama-Pacific 
Exposition  into  summary  phrases,  it  nevertheless  appears  that  its  ultimate 
significance  will  prove  social  and  psychological  as  well  as  aesthetic.  The 
love  of  form  and  colour  which  you  here  saw  displayed  in  such  prodigal 
fashion  suggested  something  pagan  and  Dionysian.  Demonstrations  of  this 
character  do  not  date  from  to-day.  They  are  as  old  as  humanity  itself. 
They  hark  back  to  Rome  and  to  Greece,  to  the  basin  of  the  Nile  and  the 
banks  of  the  Euphrates.  In  spirit  this  exposition  was  akin  to  the  pageants 
and  processionals  of  bygone  times.  Phoenix-like,  a city  rose  from  darkness 
and  disaster,  and  her  children  united  in  offering  their  tribute  of  appreciation 
and  propitiation.  There  was  downright  inspiration  in  such  a magnificent  dis- 
play of  energy,  such  a marvellous  demonstration  of  recuperative  power. 
The  opening  of  the  Canal  to  the  traffic  of  the  universe  was  an  excuse,  a mere 
pretext;  the  essential  point  is  that  here  was  a community  .teeming  with  energy 


BY  ROBERT  I.  AITKEN 


Copyright,  The  Panama-Pacific  Exposition  Co. 

SURVIVAL  OF  THE  FITTEST:  DETAIL  FROM  THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  THE  EARTH 


[49] 


IMPRESSIONS 


and  taking  legitimate  pride  in  a phenomenal  achievement.  And  such 
emotions  found  fitting  semblance  in  visible  form,  in  architecture,  sculpture, 
and  the  heightened  eloquence  of  tint  and  tone. 

While  San  Diego  kept  modestly  within  the  confines  of  a concise  and  char- 
acterful local  tradition,  San  Francisco  proclaimed  herself  a world  creation. 
That  element  of  cosmopolitanism  which  is  by  no  means  her  least  claim  to  at- 
tention was  constantly  to  the  fore  in  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  Colour, 
all  things  considered,  proved  the  dominant  contribution  of  the  undertaking  as 
a whole,  and  this  is  consistent,  for  colour  is  the  keynote  alike  of  the  Pacific 
slope  and  of  the  spacious  and  vibrant  Southwest.  In  the  East  our  taste  for 
chromatic  expression  has  been  modified  by  generations  of  Puritan  and  Quaker 
constraint.  West  of  the  Rockies  it  is  more  free  and  spontaneous.  You  find 
it  in  nature  and  in  man.  You  find  it  in  the  vanishing  Indian,  in  the 
mellifluous  place  names  bestowed  by  the  early  padres  and  pobladores,  and  in 
the  racy  phraseology  of  the  prospector  who  first  opened  the  region  to  his 
less  intrepid  transcontinental  kinsfolk. 


Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 

THE  HARVEST— SCTLPTURE  BY  PAUL  MANSHIP 


[50] 


FOUR  DECORATIONS  BY 
FRANK  BRANGWYN 

For  the  East  Court  of  the 
Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition 
at  San  Francisco 

rilHE  panels  wei’e  painted  for  the  ambulatory 
that  surrounded  the  open  court,  of  which 
Louis  C.  Mullgardt  was  the  architect.  They  were 
placed  in  the  four  corners,  one  on  each  wall,  where 
it  made  the  corner,  and  each  measured  twenty- 
five  feet  by  twelve  feet.  The  canvases  reflect 
the  spirit  of  humanity  and  of  work.  Mr.  Brangwyn 
chose  as  subjects  the  four  elements  — Air,  Earth, 
Fire,  Water — each  represented  by  two  panels. 


Copyright,  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition  Co. 


AIll— THE  WINDMILL 
BY  FRANK  BRANGWYN 


EARTH  I.— DANCING  THE  GRAPES 
BY  FRANK  BRANGWYN 


EARTH  II.— THE  FRUIT  PICKERS 
BY  FRANK  BRANGWYN 


Copyright,  tanama-Pacific  International  Exposition  Co, 


WATER— THE  FOUNTAIN 
BY  FRANK  BRANGWYN 


NIGHT  EFFECTS  AT  THE  FAIR 


Photographs  showing  the  nocturnal 
lighting  that  proved  a distinctive 
feature  of  the  Panama-Pacific 
Exposition  at  San  Francisco. 


Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


COLONNADE  FRONTING 
PALACE  OF  FINE  ARTS 


[55] 


'•V 


Panama-Facific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


PART  OF  THE  COURT 
OF  THE  FOUR  SEASONS 


[57] 


:oj 


\ If 


[59] 


LAGOON,  ROTUNDA,  AND  PALACE  OF  FINE  ARTS 


Panama^Pacific  Exposition^  San  Francisco 


THE  TOWER  OF  JEWELS 


[61] 


Panama-Pacific  Exposition^  San  Francisco 

EAST  facade,  horticulture  BUILDING 


Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 

COURT  OF  THE  FOUR  SEASONS 


[63] 


SCULPTURE 
NATIVE  AND  FOREIGN 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 
BY  JAMES  EARLE  FRASER 


[66] 


SCULPTURE 
NATIVE  AND  FOREIGN 


There  can  be  scant  question  but  that  sculpture  as  displayed 
at  our  current  exhibitions  fails  to  attract  the  general  public.  In 
place  of  being  a focus  of  interest  it  is  usually  surveyed  with  ill-dis- 
guised indifference  or  ignored  save  by  a slender  fraction  of  the 
chosen  few.  Unless  something  of  a sensational  character  be  on  view  the 
plastic  arts  do  not  compete  upon  even  terms  with  painting,  and  are  hence 
relegated  to  draughty  anteroom  or  sepulchral  subcellar.  Though  contin- 
ually seeing  sculpture  treated  in  inauspicious  fashion  we  have  come  to  regard 
the  statue,  the  relief,  or  the  bust,  as  different  phases  of  the  same  necessary 
evil.  They  are  forms  of  art  which,  in  the  popular  mind  at  least,  do  not 
convincingly  justify  their  existence. 

Such  a condition  of  affairs  naturally  does  not  date  from  to-day,  nor  are 
its  causes  to  be  found  in  the  immediate  past.  Sculpture  since  its  initial 
florescence  has  submitted  to  various  transitions.  Marble  was  the  inevitable 
medium  in  which  the  Hellenic  ideal  of  beauty  found  expression.  The  jubilant 
richness  of  the  Renaissance  attained  its  apotheosis  in  bronze,  while  during 
the  rose-tinted  dawn  of  Gothic  age  the  anonymous  artist  chiselled  his  naive 
fusion  of  paganism  and  piety  into  the  surface  of  stone.  In  due  course,  how- 
ever, plastic  representation,  being  restricted  to  considerations  of  form  alone, 
found  it  increasingly  difficult  to  reflect  the  complexity  of  contemporary 
feeling  and  aspiration.  Cradled  in  joyous  serenity,  sculpture  could  not 
readily  take  upon  itself  the  sorrows  and  mortification  of  the  Christian  faith. 
Its  day  of  glory  had  passed,  and  thus  painting,  with  its  sensuous  film  of 
colour,  and  faculty  of  direct  transposition,  gradually  wrested  the  primacy 
from  its  sister  art  and  became  the  chosen  handmaiden  of  Church  and  State. 

While  one  can  scarcely  contend  that  sculpture  suffered  an  eclipse,  it  can- 
not be  denied  that  from  this  period  onward  it  ceased  to  enjoy  its  one-time 


[67] 


IMPRESSIONS 


undisputed  supremacy.  Stray  figures  still  haunted  secluded,  vine-covered 
niche,  or  graced  the  fountains  and  avenues  of  formal  park  and  garden.  Pagan 
laughter  still  lingered  in  the  gay  wantons  of  Clodion  and  Falconet,  but.  the 
role  played  by  the  plastic  arts  was  henceforth  subsidiary.  And  yet  it  is 
not  this  perceptible  loss  of  prestige  which  is  responsible  for  the  present  plight 
of  sculpture.  It  is  rather  due  to  that  radical  misconception  of  the  functions 
of  the  art  which  followed  close  in  the  wake  of  the  so-called  classic  revival. 
Turbulent  and  grandiose  as  he  indubitably  was,  Michelangelo  proved  a less 
baneful  influence  than  did  such  smug  falsifiers  of  the  antique  spirit  as  Canova 
and  Thorvaldsen.  The  assiduous  imitation  of  these  palpable  imitators,  and 
the  persistent  placing  of  statue  and  bust  in  inept  and  illogical  surroundings, 
were  the  chief  factors  in  the  progressive  alienation  of  sculpture  from  popular 
sympathy.  Ruthlessly  wrenched  from  their  original  setting,  and  displayed 
as  mere  detached  curios  with  no  feeling  for  background,  either  artistic  or 
historical,  it  is  scant  wonder  that  these  pathetic  fugitives  from  a forgotten 
world  held  no  message  for  the  masses.  Sculpture  is  a legitimate  child  of  light 
and  air.  It  is  indissolubly  wedded  to  an  architectural,  or  at  least  a decorative 
ensemble,  and,  once  this  precious  connexion  is  severed,  the  plastic  spell  is 
for  ever  broken. 

You  will  readily  concede  that  sculpture  survived  numerous  changes  both 
social  and  aesthetic.  It  managed,  as  we  have  seen,  to  adjust  itself  to  various 
media.  It  passed  from  pagan  blitheness  to  appealing  fraternalism,  and  came 
bravely  down  to  modern  times  only  to  falter  in  the  end  through  a series  of 
unfortunate  misapprehensions  as  to  its  true  mission.  The  most  conspicuous 
offenders  in  this  respect  have  been,  it  cannot  be  too  often  repeated,  the  museum 
directors  and  other  custodians  who  have  continued  to  house  the  priceless 
heritage  of  antique  civilization  with  callous  incomprehension.  Stark  halls 
and  dingy  corridors  have  been  congested  with  genuine  originals  or  chalky 
casts  that  struggle  in  piteous  futility  for  sunlight  and  the  flash  of  green  foliage. 
The  intimate  relationship  between  plastic  form  and  nature  has  been  almost 
wholly  neglected,  and,  in  consequence,  few  of  us  can  be  blamed  for  growing 
cold  and  unresponsive  to  the  claims  of  this  noblest  and  most  exalted  of  all 
phases  of  artistic  expression. 

Previous  to  the  Centennial  Exhibition  of  1876  there  was,  strictly  speaking, 
no  sculpture  worthy  the  appellation  in  America.  While  such  primitives  as 
William  Rush  and  John  Frazee  practised  their  profession  with  commendable 


[68] 


Y,OUNG  GIRL  WITH  WATER  JAR 
BY  JOSEPH  BERNARD 


French  Section,  Panama- Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


SCULPTURE 


American  Section^  Panama-Pacific  Exposition^  San  Francisco 

THE  OUTCAST  BY  ATTILIO  PICCIRILLI 


integrity  of  purpose,  they  were  hardly  more  than  ill-equipped  craftsmen. 
Whatever  their  shortcomings  they  are,  nevertheless,  entitled  to  an  ampler 
measure  of  consideration  than  their  pretentious  successors,  Horatio  Greenough 
and  Hiram  Powers,  who  espoused  the  emasculated  classicism  so  much  in  vogue 
during  the  early  decades  of  the  last  century.  Drifting  farther  and  farther 
from  the  true  Attic  spirit,  which  is  essentially  concrete,  they  led  the  taste  of 
the  day  into  a realm  of  vapid  abstraction.  The  sense  of  personality  was  sacri- 
ficed to  a smooth,  characterless  finish.  The  figures  showed  no  real  vitality, 
and  in  general  conception  were  the  antithesis  of  that  which  is  inherently 
sculptural.  It  was  not  indeed  until  our  leading  artists  turned  from  Rome 
to  Paris,  from  the  immemorial  dust  of  the  city  by  the  Tiber  to  the  purple 
haze  which  hangs  over  the  Seine,  that  conditions  betrayed  substantial  im- 
provement. 


[71] 


IMPRESSIONS 


If  it  was  the  Paris-trained  artists  who,  during  the  ensuing  interval,  made 
possible  the  splendid  plastic  pageant  which  was  such  an  inspiring  feature 
of  the  ^York^s  Columbian  Exposition  of  1893,  it  was  likewise  certain  Paris  men, 
with  the  assistance  of  a few  home-taught  talents,  who  were  responsible  for  the 
results  witnessed  at  San  Francisco.  Sculpture  here  for  the  first  time  in  the 
annals  of  American  art  assumed  its  rightful  place  in  a broadly  conceived 
decorative  scheme.  Not  only  was  it  admirably  correlated  with  archi- 
tecture; it  was  also  accorded  its  proper  position  as  a component  part  of 
the  landscape.  Having  already  touched  upon  the  sculpture  at  the  Panama- 
Pacific  Exposition  in  its  relation  to  the  several  buildings,  we  may  turn  to  its 
application  to  more  informal  outdoor  problems.  While  the  ornamental  and 
monumental  sculpture  at  San  Francisco  was  but  a trifle  less  banal  than  cus- 
tomary, the  various  groups  and  single  figures  dotted  about  the  grounds  disclosed 
certain  engaging  effects.  They  appeared  to  the  best  advantage  when  most 
closely  identified  with  natural  surroundings.  Those  which  created  the  finest 
impression  were  in  fact  those  that  seemed  spontaneously  to  spring  from  their 
backgrounds.  Sculpture  of  this  character  should  be  the  epitome  of  earth, 
sky,  tree,  and  plant.  It  is  nature  herself,  it  is  the  veritable  spirit  of  place, 
which  should  suggest  to  the  artist  his  theme  and  treatment,  for  only  thus 
can  he  work  with  that  sympathy  and  comprehension  which  make  for  lasting 
achievement. 

A leisurely,  receptive  stroll  in  the  proximity  of  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  was 
sufficient  to  vindicate  the  above  contention.  Silhouetted  against  luxuriant 
foliage  or  warm-toned  wall  surface  were  numerous  familiar  figures  that 
never  before  appeared  to  like  advantage.  They  are  creatures  of  the  open, 
these  fauns,  nymphs,  shepherd  lads,  and  playful  water  sprites.  They  demand, 
one  and  all,  the  shifting  caress  of  light  and  shade  and  the  fitful  stir  of  the 
wind.  ^Yhile  there  are  various  matters  upon  which  the  Department  of 
Fine  Arts  cannot  be  congratulated,  it  merits,  in  this  particular  instance, 
ungrudging  praise.  Mistakes  were  made,  the  most  flagrant  being  the 
depositing  of  Mr.  Grafly’s  Pioneer  Mother  stolidly  in  front  of  the  main 
portal  of  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts,  but, on  the  whole,  few  exceptions  can  be  taken 
to  the  general  propriety  of  the  scheme.  The  climax  of  this  happy  outdoor 
treatment  was  attained  in  Ralph  Stackpole’s  Shrine  of  Inspiration,  which  rose 
upon  a slight  eminence  in  front  of  the  rotunda.  One  saw  in  this  compo- 
sition an  inherently  sculptural  conception  given  the  requisite  poetie  and 
imaginative  significance  through  the  unique  beauty  of  its  entourage. 


[72] 


Ph  >h 
^ pq 


[73] 


OWS  AND  THEIR  YOUNG 
DAGFIN  WERENSKIOLD 


International  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


Photograph  by  W.  M.  van  der  Weyde 


[75] 


COUNT  TOLSTOY 
BY  PAUL  TROUBETZKOY 


SCULPTURE 


Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 

AQUATIC  NYMPHS.  COURT  OF  THE  UNnT:RSE  BY  LEO  LENTELLI 


The  development  of  American  sculpture  since  the  somewhat  dim,  inde- 
terminate days  when  Patience  Wright,  of  Bordentown,  first  began  modelling 
wax  portraits  and  silhouettes  of  celebrities,  local  and  national,  is  fraught  with 
vicissitudes.  Reference  has  already  been  made  to  the  Canova-Thorvaldsen 
period,  though  it  is  doubtful  whether  this  particular  epoch  was  more  inimical 
to  taste  than  was  the  era  of  the  monument  manufacturers  which  followed  the 
conclusion  of  the  Civil  War.  We  have  sinned  grievously  in  this  latter  regard. 
We  have  disfigured  many  a noble  space  and  obstructed  countless  streets 
and  public  squares,  yet  we  are  somehow  learning  our  lesson  aright.  At  Phila- 
delphia in  1876  sculpture  was  not  identified  with  architecture.  It  was  some- 
thing apart,  isolated  from  the  ensemble.  At  Chicago  it  was  employed  in 
festal  fashion  after  the  manner  of  the  French.  A still  further  advance  was 
recorded  at  San  Francisco.  You  were  herewith  not  confronted  with  separate 
works  the  significance  of  which  it  was  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  decipher. 


[77] 


IMPRESSIONS 


The  aim  was  to  fuse  all  the  arts  into  a single  eloquent,  unified,  impres- 
sion. And  while  the  possibilities  of  plastic  form  were  not  so  keenly 
realized  or  so  consistently  applied  as  were  those  of  colour,  a distinct  improve- 
ment was  made  upon  anything  of  the  sort  hitherto  attempted  on  so 
ambitious  a scale. 

We  shall  not  linger  to  review  in  detail  the  miscellaneous  assortments  of 
native  sculpture  which  were  immured  in  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts.  Much  of  this 
work  being  already  well  known,  we  shall  proceed  to  a consideration  of  the 
various  foreign  sections,  for,  after  all,  it  is  not  specific  issues,  but  general  out- 
lines, which  we  aim  to  trace  in  these  brief  sketches.  Many  of  the  principal 
nations  represented  in  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  also  possessed  separate  pavilions 
of  their  own,  in  the  embellishment  of  which  sculpture  played  an  appropriate 
part.  The  most  elaborate  of  these  structures  was  that  of  Italy,  and  it  was  also 
the  most  traditional.  No  fresh  problems  were  entailed  in  the  construction  of 
this  Renaissance  palace  or  the  disposal  of  the  numerous  statues,  ornamental 
groups,  carved  seats,  etc.,  in  the  courts  and  corridors  of  this  imposing  pile. 
It  was  the  treasury  of  the  past  that  was  alone  drawn  upon,  so  in  order  to 
see  what  contemporary  Italian  sculptors  were  accomplishing,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  return  to  the  Fine  Arts  Palace. 

The  sculpture  of  Italy,  like  that  of  other  European  countries,  to-day  ex- 
emplifies two  distinct  tendencies.  The  one  instances  that  reversion  to  archaic 
tradition  which  finds  its  most  acute  manifestation  in  the  work  of  certain  of 
the  younger  French  artists  and  their  transalpine  imitators.  The  other 
illustrates  that  return  to  the  freedom  of  Renaissance  ideals  which  attains  its 
supreme  expression  with  such  masters  as  Auguste  Rodin  and  Leonardo 
Bistolfi.  Thus  far  the  Italians  have  not  achieved  anything  of  moment  in 
the  former  category.  It  is  Bistolfi  and  his  followers  who  are  producing  the 
noblest  work  of  contemporary  Italy,  for  they  have  rejected  an  effete  Greco- 
Roman  heritage  and  turned,  like  Rodin,  to  fresher  sources  of  feeling  and  in- 
spiration. Owing  to  the  regrettable  absence  of  Bistolfi,  the  sculpture  in  the 
Italian  Section  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition  lost  not  a little  significance. 
A certain  florid  elegance  characterized  Arturo  Dazzi’s  Portrait  of  a Lady. 
Giovanni  Nicolini  showed  power  and  mastery  of  design,  and  in  Ermenegildo 
Luppi’s  Grandmother’s  Idol  one  noted  a suggestion  of  the  nervous  modelling 
and  direct,  graphic  method  so  brilliantly  employed  by  Prince  Paul  Troubetzkoy. 
There  was,  however,  little  else  of  importance.  hile  the  contributions  of 


[78] 


Italian  Section,  Panaina-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


GRANDMOTHER’S  IDOL 
BY  ERMENEGILDO  LUPPI 


[79] 


IMPRESSIONS 


Professor  Ferrari  commanded  attention,  and  The  Kiss,  Michelo  Vedani,  paid 
eloquent  tribute  to  Rodin,  one  was  not  inspired  by  the  balance  of  the  offering. 
Considering  their  rich  endowment  and  incomparable  background  the  latter-day 
Italians  scarcely  occupy  the  position  they  should  in  modern  sculpture.  They 
have  not  succeeded  in  escaping  the  influence  of  a certain  decadent  formalism 
which  seems  to  destroy  individual  effort  and  initiative. 

Like  that  of  Italy,  the  sculpture  contributed  by  France  to  the  Panama- 
Pacific  Exposition  was  on  view  partly  in  the  national  Pavilion,  and  partly  in 
the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts.  The  exalted  names  such  as  Rodin,  Bartholome,  Bour- 
delle, Dalou,  Mercie,  and  the  like  were  nearly  all  represented  by  one  or  more 
subjects.  One  missed,  it  is  true,  Falguiere,  who  oddly  enough,  figured  in  the 
painting  section  onl^u  One  also  deplored  the  absence  of  Maillol,  but,  taken 
together,  the  display  evinced  variety  and  interest.  Special  prominence  was 
by  the  way  accorded  the  medallic  art,  a department  in  which  the  French 
have  attained  unique  distinction. 

It  might  well  have  been  inferred  that  the  master  modeller  of  Meudon  would 
triumph  over  his  colleagues  in  any  collection  of  contemporary  French,  or 
other  sculpture,  and  such  was  the  case  at  San  Francisco.  In  the  spacious 
courtyard  of  the  Pavilion  sat  the  Penseur  brooding  and  stressful.  AYithin 
was  a series  of  portrait  busts  which,  in  the  final  analysis,  will  doubtless  consti- 
tute Rodin’s  chief  title  to  immortality.  The  general  average  of  merit  was 
above  that  of  Italy.  There  was  less  perfunctory  work,  and  distinct  significance 
attached  to  such  essays  in  simplified  form  as  Joseph  Bernard’s  Young  AYoman 
with  a Water  Jar  and  Rene  Quillivic’s  The  Foot  Bath.  In  these  figures,  both 
of  which  reveal  obvious  sympathy  with  the  modern  archaistic  spirit,  we 
note  a legitimate  indebtedness  to  Aristide  Maillol.  It  is  quite  frankly  a wel- 
come tendency,  and  one  which,  if  it  does  not  relapse  into  mere  mannerism, 
should  produce  valuable  results. 

Had  you  pursued  the  impressionistic  rather  than  the  scholastic  method 
and  passed  with  not  too  rigid  scrutiny  through  the  remaining  galleries  you 
would  have  come  upon  certain  works  of  more  than  common  interest.  In 
the  Swedish  Section  the  powerful  and  broadly  monumental  conceptions  of 
David  Ldstrom  dominated  all  others.  Most  modern  sculpture  is  fictile,  that 
of  Edstrom  is  glyptic.  He  gets  his  effects  from  the  hardest  granite,  not  the 
ready  tractability  of  clay.  The  display  of  sculpture  in  the  Netherlands  Section, 
while  not  otherwise  important,  was  notable  through  the  inclusion  of  three 


[80] 


O • 


AtiK 


French  Section,  Panama^Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


THE  FOOT  BATH 
BY  RENE  QUILLIVIC 

[81] 


SCULPTURE 


objects  by  Charles  van  Wyk,  a young  artist  who  possesses  something  of 
Meunier’s  vigour  of  handling  and  deep  sympathy  for  the  downtrodden. 
The  generous  representation  accorded  Hans  St.  Lerche,  and  the  decorative 
panels  by  Dagfin  Werenskiold,  were  the  features  of  the  Norwegian  exhibit, 
while  the  chief  points  of  attraction  in  the  Argentine  room  were  the  work  of 
Juan  Carlos  Oliva  Navarro  and  Alberto  Lagos.  And,  finally.  Prince  Trou- 
betzkoy,  fluent  and  spirited  as  ever,  furnished  the  recpiisite  flavour  of  cos- 
mopolitanism to  the  International  Section. 

You  will  presumably  have  noted  in  the  sculpture  as  seen  at  the  Panama- 
Pacific  Exposition  not  a few  encouraging  signs.  The  endeavour  to  escape  from 
a fatal  fixity  of  type,  the  attempt  to  attain  a more  personal  expression,  and  the 
realization  that  sculpture  must  not  stand  alone  in  sterile,  melancholy  isola- 
tion are  welcome  tendencies.  We  can  never,  and  we  should  never,  aim  to 
recapture  the  antique  spirit.  If  sculpture  is  to  survive,  it  must  be  brought 
into  closer  accord  with  contemporary  feelings  and  ideas.  The  desire,  and 
the  power,  to  see  objects  plastically  should  be  more  consciously  cultivated,  for 
to  this  craving  sculpture  will  surely  not  fail  to  respond.  It  was  thus  when 
the  human  form  first  emerged  from  the  vase  of  potter,  and  the  relief  evolved 
from  rude  hieroglyph,  and  thus  it  is  to-day. 


Swedish  Section,  Panama-Pacific 
Exposition,  Safi  Francisco 


SPHINX  BY  DAVID  EDSTROiM 


[S3] 


AMERICAN  PAINTING 


TORSO 

BY  ARTHUR  B.  CARLES 


[86] 


AMERICAN  PAINTING 


PICTURE  a colonnade  over  a thousand  feet  in  length  sweeping  ma- 
jestically around  the  tree-lined  marge  of  a gleaming  lagoon,  with, 
behind  the  colonnade,  a vast,  crescent-shaped  structure  containing 
a hundred  or  more  separate  rooms,  and  you  have  some  idea  of  the 
Palace  of  Fine  Arts  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  Viewed  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  lagoon,  the  rotunda  fronting  the  encircling  columns  re- 
called, in  its  deeply  romantic  suggestion,  Rocklin’s  Island  of  the  Dead.  The 
sense  of  antiquity  was  there,  the  silence,  the  remoteness  from  the  world  of 
actuality,  and  the  summons  to  a realm  where  one  surrenders  to  the  magic  of  a 
mysterious,  indefinable  beauty.  Such  was  the  appeal  exercised  by  this 
memorable  fusion  of  elements  traditional,  natural,  and  frankly  inspirational. 

The  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  seemed  indeed  an  island  set  amid  a shimmering  sea 
of  colour,  a haven  where  the  spirit  sought  grateful  repose.  This  island  was 
not  however  Die  Toteninsel  of  Teutonic  imagination,  nor  was  it  the  Cythere  of 
more  ingratiating  Gallic  fancy.  If  it  was  impossible  to  repress  a feeling  of 
exaltation  as  you  approached  this  building  which,  on  the  outside,  promised  so 
much,  it  was  equally  difficult  to  dispel  a sense  of  disillusion  on  examining  its 
contents  as  a whole.  In  the  rooms  devoted  to  American  painting  classic 
calm  and  romantic  reverie  gave  place,  despite  belated  attempts  at  rehabilita- 
tion, to  something  closely  resembling  confused  incompletion.  While  there 
were  certain  sequestered  spots  where  beauty  was  successfully  wooed  and  won, 
the  combined  impression  was  far  from  inspiring.  We  all  realized  that  there 
were  mitigating  circumstances,  that  it  was  difficult  to  assemble  an  exhibition 
of  pictures  during  a world  crisis,  not  to  say  cataclysm,  yet  nevertheless  such 
restrictions  did  not  apply  so  rigorously  to  the  American  section.  Moreover, 
in  general  arrangement  and  not  infrequently  in  questions  of  specific  choice, 
the  native  display  proved  inferior  to  many  of  the  foreign  rooms.  The 


[871 


IMPRESSIONS 


average  of  merit  attained  by  Sweden,  for  example,  and  the  installation  of  the 
Swedish,  Dutch,  and  Italian  exhibits  were  notable  instances  of  what,  despite 
unpropitious  conditions,  the  Europeans  were  able  to  accomplish.  Even  a 
casual  stroll  through  the  galleries  was  sufficient  to  convince  one  that  in  the 
matter  of  ambitious  international  art  exhibitions  we  are  moving  consistently 
backward.  The  World’s  Columbian  Exposition  at  Chicago  in  1893  was 
superior  to  the  Louisiana  Purchase  Exposition  at  St.  Louis  in  1904,  which, 
in  turn,  was  manifestly  better  than  the  recent  Panama-Pacific. 

It  is  doubtless  ungracious  to  possess  a somewhat  extensive  perspective, 
or  to  recall  with  vivid  freshness  how  paintings  are  displayed  at  the  Grosse 
Berliner,  the  Secession  exhibitions  of  Berlin  and  Vienna,  in  the  more  char- 
acteristic capitals  of  Prague  and  Budapest,  or  in  such  cities  as  Stockholm, 
Dtisseldorf,  Dresden,  Munich,  and  Venice.  Modern  pictorial  emplacement 
originated  in  Brussels  at  the  Libre  esthetique,  and  from  thence  passed  on 
to  Austria  and  the  rest  of  Europe.  Though  historically  part  of  the  decora- 
tive regeneration  which  derived  from  William  Morris,  neither  the  English 
nor  the  Americans  grasped  its  significance,  nor  can  they  be  said  to  do  so  to 
the  present  day.  Quite  obviously  we  Anglo-Saxons  are  a generation  behind 
in  such  matters.  Burlington  House  in  London  and  the  Vanderbilt  Gallery 
in  New  York  are  annually  the  scene  of  the  most  antiquated  hanging  through- 
out the  civilized  world.  A few  institutions,  such  as  the  Brooklyn  Museum, 
the  Albright  Gallery,  Buffalo,  the  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh,  and  the 
Corcoran  Gallery,  Washington,  have  made  measurable  advances  during  the 
past  few  seasons,  yet  even  so,  the  essential  principles  of  appropriate  instal- 
lation are  with  us  but  imperfectly  appreciated  and  ineffectually  practised. 

Assiduous  amateurs  of  contemporary  painting  encountered  little  that 
was  novel  in  the  American  section  of  this  same  classico-romantic  Palace  of 
Fine  Arts.  We  shall  not,  at  this  date,  attempt  an  inventory-  of  the  several 
rooms,  but  rather,  if  possible,  summarize  the  salient  features  of  the  exhibition 
as  a whole.  The  task  is  a simple  one.  It  is  primarily  a question  as  to  whether 
the  general  public  did  or  did  not  leave  the  building  having  experienced 
that  great  aesthetic  adventure  so  eagerly  looked  forward  to.  Did  they 
discover  something  new,  or  was  their  customary  attitude  toward  art  merely 
amplified  and  diversified?  In  brief  did  the  director  in  his  selection  and 
disposal  of  the  thousands  of  works  pictorial  and  plastic  enforce,  or  did  he 
enfeeble,  the  fine  emotional  fervour,  the  thrill  of  expectancy  created  by  the 
architect? 


[88] 


American  Section,  Panama- Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco  Courtesy  of  the  Artist 


MME.  GAUTREAU  | 

BY  JOHN  S.  SARGENT 


[89] 


AMERICAN  PAINTING 


American  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco  Courtesy  of  The  Lotos  Club 

THE  COMING  STORM  BY  WINSLOW  HOMER 


After  an  extended  study  of  the  public,  as  well  as  the  paintings,  one  is  face 
to  face  with  the  conclusion  that  there  was  something  amiss  with  what  may 
be  generically  termed  the  San  Francisco  system.  Despite  a presumable 
predisposition  for  the  production  of  their  countrymen  and  the  personality 
of  the  various  artists,  our  good  people  from  West  or  East  did  not  experience 
the  requisite  reaction  from  the  American  section.  The  reason  is  not  far  to 
seek.  Whatever  be  the  extenuating  circumstances,  and  in  every  exhibition 
there  are  extenuating  circumstances,  the  collective  impression  has  proved 
inconclusive.  Starting  with  the  magnanimous,  not  to  say  merciful,  assump- 
tion that  all  which  met  the  eye  was  worthy  of  inclusion  in  such  an  exhibition, 
there  was  still  much  to  be  desired.  The  methods  employed  failed  to  disclose  the 
decorative  significance  of  a given  canvas.  We  were  shown  what  a picture  was, 
but  not  what  a picture  was  for.  Suspended  in  dual,  sometimes  even  triple, 
alignment,  the  efi^ect  was  stupefying  rather  than  stimulating.  Save  in  a few 
instances  the  backgrounds  were  dull,  grimy,  and  unprepossessing,  and  it  was 
hence  impossible  for  many  of  the  works  to  appear  to  advantage. 


[91] 


IMPRESSIONS 


The  situation  would  seem  to  resolve  itself  into  a question  of  imperfect 
sympathy.  A painting  either  is  or  is  not  an  expression  of  creative  emo- 
tion, something  into  which  the  artist  has  put  his  version  of  the  visible  world 
or  his  vague  aspiration  toward  that  great,  beckoning  beauty  which  is  the 
heritage  of  all  people  in  all  ages.  To  distribute  canvases  about  the  walls 
like  so  many  unrelated  specimens  is  not  to  accord  painting  its  requisite  spir- 
itual or  social,  not  to  speak  of  aesthetic,  consideration.  It  is  true  that  the 
practice  is  a venerable  one,  yet  it  is  also  true  that  it  is  being  modified  and 
rectified  in  virtually  every  country  from  Scandinavia  to  South  America.  There 
seems,  however,  a certain  fatality  attached  to  us  when  we  appear  beside 
the  foreigners  on  the  occasion  of  important  international  exhibitions.  One 
recalls  with  pathos  the  moribund  American  room  at  the  Venice  Exposition  of 
1909,  and  the  more  pretentious  fiasco  at  the  Roman  Esposizione  Internazionale 
two  years  later.  We  do  not  realize  the  importance  of  proper  spacing  or 
proper  setting  for  our  vast  and  varied  pictorial  output.  Our  exposition  and 
museum  directors  are  doing  little  along  these  lines  to  bridge  the  ever-widen- 
ing abyss  between  the  producing  artist  and  the  aspiring  public.  They  con- 
tinue to  employ  methods  that  are  obsolete.  They  fail,  above  all,  to  appre- 
ciate the  fundamental  affinity  between  beauty  and  utility. 

As  may  be  inferred  from  the  foregoing,  the  best  features  of  the  American 
section  were  to  be  found  not  in  the  galleries  devoted  to  miscellaneous  work, 
but  in  those  dedicated  to  individual  masters,  of  which  there  were,  fortunately, 
not  a few.  Of  the  deceased  painters,  separate  rooms  or  walls  were 
allotted  to  Whistler,  Edwin  A.  Abbey,  Winslow  Homer,  John  La  Earge, 
Theodore  Robinson,  John  H.  Twachtman  and  others,  while  prominent 
among  the  living  thus  to  be  honoured  were  Erank  Duveneck,  Gari  Melchers, 
William  M.  Chase,  John  S.  Sargent,  J.  Alden  Weir,  Edmund  C.  Tarbell, 
Childe  Hassam,  and  Edward  W.  Redfield.  The  insubstantial  art  of  Whistler, 
so  exacting,  so  persistent  in  its  search  for  preciosity,  was  seen  to  special  advan- 
tage in  the  full-length  likeness  of  ]Mrs.  Huth  and  a series  of  panels  from  the 
collection  of  Charles  L.  Freer,  Esq.  The  room  was  small,  and,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  portrait  already  mentioned,  the  subjects  were  restricted  in  size. 
The  effect  was  none  the  less  one  of  manifest  propriety.  It  was  a secluded 
little  sanctuary  to  taste,  a corner  where  one  could  commune  with  a frail 
though  ardent  spirit,  one  whose  legacy  to  posterity  is  slender,  yet  imperishable. 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  characterize  each  of  the  above  artists.  Abbey, 
who  never  found  paint  a congenial  or  spontaneous  medium,  and  La  Earge, 


[92] 


American  Stciion^  Panama^Pacijic  Exposition,  SanFrancisco  Courtesy  of  the  estate  of  Mrs.  E.  M.  Cobden. 


NOTE  BLANCHE:  STUDY  OF  JO 
BY  JAMES  McNEILL  WHISTLER 


[93] 


AMERICAN  PAINTING 


American  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


SUMMER  BY  FREDERIC  C.  FRIESEKE 

who  ranks  at  best  as  a studious,  eclectic  amateur,  call  for  scant  comment. 
The  robust  naturalism  of  Winslow  Homer  was  but  insufficiently  indicated, 
though  one  had,  in  compensation,  a serene,  clear-toned  wall  from  which 
shone  the  radiant  masterpieces  of  Theodore  Robinson.  The  pioneer  Ameri- 
can impressionist  painted  modest  themes — bits  of  winding  canal,  glimpses  of 
white  cottage  nestled  against  green  hillside,  peasant  girls  musing  under  spread- 
ing apple  bough  or  stretched  prone  upon  the  grass.  There  was  no  pose,  no 
hint  of  pretence  here.  Robinson  went  to  the  heart  of  the  scene,  however 
simple  and  unambitious  it  may  have  seemed.  Out  of  little  he  made  much. 
He  painted  light,  air,  and  colour.  The  purest  lyric  talent  we  have  thus  far 
produced,  he  sang  a song  steeped  in  outdoor  brightness  and  objective  tran- 
quillity. Starting  from  a somewhat  similar  point  of  view,  that  which,  in 
Robinson,  remained  analysis,  became  with  Twachtman  a species  of  creative 
synthesis.  His  opalescent  panels  are  veritable  improvisations  wherein  the 
essentials  of  impressionism  have  been  superseded  by  a subtle  abstraction 
frankly  suggestive  of  the  Japanese.  Both  men  died  in  the  fullness  of  attain- 


[95] 


IMPRESSIONS 


ment,  and  you  have  merely  to  survey  the  walls  of  any  current  exhibition  in 
order  to  realize  how  sadly  we  miss  certain  elements  of  taste,  sensibility,  and 
aesthetic  integrity  which  were  the  touchstones  of  these  two  brief  but  signi- 
ficant careers. 

There  can  be  nothing  invidious  in  the  contention  that  the  chief  success 
among  living  American  painters  represented  at  San  Francisco  was 
achieved  by  Ph-ank  Duveneck.  Though  reminiscent  of  the  Munich  Academy 
manner  and  the  murky  tonality  of  Piloty  and  the  Italo-Bavarians  of  some 
four  decades  ago,  Mr.  Duveneck’s  work  is  by  no  means  devoid  of  personality. 
You  will  doubtless  recall  Leibl  in  confronting  certain  of  his  portraits.  You 
may  here  and  there  encounter  echoes  of  von  Lenbach  or  the  sumptuous 
Yenetians,  yet  always  you  will  meet  the  eye  and  hand,  the  mind  and  mani- 
pulative mastery  of  Duveneck  himself.  As  far  as  the  general  public  is  con- 
cerned, and  the  public  is,  alas,  seldom  recognizant  in  such  cases,  Frank 
Duveneck  has  of  late  years  been  merely  a respected  and  honoured  memory. 
The  San  P'rancisco  exhibition  served  to  rehabilitate  his  name  and  ensure  for 
him  that  position  in  the  development  of  American  painting  which  he  so 
rightfully  merits. 

it 


Afnerican  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco  Courtesy  of  Samuel  T.  Shaw,  Esq. 

IN  THE  SUN  by  THEODORE  ROBINSON 


[96] 


AMERICAN  PAINTING 


American  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


POPPIES  BY  ROBERT  W.  VONNOH 

While  adequately  presented,  less  interest  attached  to  the  work  of  our 
periodic  prize  winners  than  to  certain  more  progressive  talents.  In  the  com- 
pany of  such  men  as  Tarbell,  Hassam,  Metcalf,  and  Redfield,  one  experiences 
a sense  of  quotidian  familiarity.  They  are  specialists,  and  may  always  be 
counted  upon  to  maintain  prescribed  standards.  Their  production  re- 
veals few  departures  and  no  surprises.  It  is  consequently  to  the  younger 
element  that  we  must  turn  in  order  to  gather  a less  perfunctory  impression 
of  contemporary  painting,  and  in  this  connexion  may  be  cited  the  names 
of  Frederic  C.  Frieseke,  Hayley  Lever,  Jonas  Lie,  Walter  Griffin,  George  W. 
Bellows,  and  Arthur  B.  Carles.  Mr.  Frieseke  proved  the  official  as  well 
as  popular  success  of  the  exhibition.  By  no  means  profound,  or  divulging 
any  disquieting  depth  of  feeling,  his  canvases  are  nevertheless  captivating 
in  their  sheer,  bright-toned  beauty,  their  luminous  iridescence,  whether 
of  boudoir  or  sun-flecked  river  bank.  In  Mr.  Lever  we  discern  a more  sub- 
stantial achievement,  and  note  a special  gift  for  colour  draughtsmanship  and 
a sense  of  rhythm  as  rare  as  it  is  welcome. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  complexion  of  current  art  is  fast 
changing.  To  these  changes  the  public  is  rapidly  becoming  accustomed,  more 
rapidly  perhaps  than  exposition  promoters  and  museum  officials  realize. 


[97] 


IMPRESSIONS 


We  are  casting  off  our  congenital  conservatism  and  dependence.  The  Fon- 
tainebleau-Barbizon  tradition  which  so  long  darkened  and  sentimentalized 
native  landscape,  and  the  aesthetic  anaemia  that  emanated  from  the  delicate 
organism  of  Whistler,  have  been  succeeded  by  fresher,  more  invigorating 
tendencies.  While  one  cannot  describe  the  paintings  at  the  Panama-Pacific 
Exposition  as  being  in  any  degree  radical  or  modernistic,  still  they  were  suffi- 
ciently indicative  of  the  fact  that  art  in  America  is  progressing  along  normal, 
wholesome  lines.  Cubism,  Futurism,  Orphism,  and  the  like  were  ex- 
cluded from  the  native  section.  You  did  not  encounter  upon  the  walls  of 
the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  any  third,  or  fourth,  dimensional  experiments.  There 
were  it  is  true  a few  arsenical  nudes  in  evidence,  yet  as  a rule  there  was 
nothing  that  could  perturb  the  cautious  or  timorous. 

We  appear,  on  the  whole,  to  display  less  fervour  and  less  creative  fecundity 
than  do  our  foreign  colleagues.  The  sense  of  style  is  with  us  not  so  promi- 
nently developed,  nor  do  we  seem  so  individual  in  our  general  outlook.  Such 
considerations  are  not  superficial.  They  are  fundamental.  Our  art  begins 
at  the  top  instead  of  surging  irresistibly  up  from  the  wellsprings  of  nature  and 
character.  We  betray  the  effects  of  an  imperfectly  established  social  equi- 
librium. We  lack  on  one  hand  the  sturdy  substratum  of  peasant  endeavour 
which  the  Europeans  so  abundantly  possess,  and,  on  the  other,  that  central 
authority  which  must  always  constitute  the  final  court  of  appeal.  While,  as 
was  so  eloquently  demonstrated  at  San  Francisco,  we  have  accomplished 
memorable  things  in  architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting,  we  must  not  be 
misled  by  mere  exposition  enthusiasm  into  believing  that  the  prize  of  beauty 
has  been,  or  can  ever  be,  definitively  captured. 

And  as  you  lingered  outside  the  galleries  in  the  fading  light,  with  the  stars 
mirrored  in  the  surface  of  the  pool,  and  the  swans  gliding  silently  about,  you 
doubtless  thought  less  of  Cythere  than  of  Die  Toteninsel.  The  dream  of  a 
splendid  exhibition  of  contemporary  painting,  of  something  uniquely  educa- 
tional and  uniquely  inspirational,  had  meanwhile  vanished.  The  architect, 
with  the  perspective  of  the  ages  behind  him,  succeeded,  in  his  visible  suggestion 
of  human  aspiration  and  human  futility,  in  giving  us  something  more  subtle 
than  that  vouchsafed  by  the  art  director.  The  one  was  a prophecy,  the 
other  merely  a promise. 


[98] 


American  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco  Courtesy  of  the  Cincinnati  Museum  Association. 


WHISTLING  BOY 
BY  FRANK  DUYENECK 

[99] 


American  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco  Courtesy  of  Louis  B.  McCagg,  Esq. 


SPANISH  COURTYARD 
BY  JOHN  S.  SARGENT 


[101] 


American  Section,  Payiama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco  Courtesy  of  James  Deering,  Esq. 

Copyright,  The  Detroit  Publishing  Co. 


MOTHER  AND  CHILD 
BY  GARI  MELCHERS 


[103] 


a 


'X! 


:z; 

o 


a 

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rXJ 

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[105] 


American  Section,  Panama- Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


American  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition^  San  Francisco 


[107] 


PORTRAIT 

BY  CECILIA  BEAUX 


Avierican  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Expositioji,  San  Francisco 


THE  ICE  STORM 
BY  ALLEN  TUCKER 


[109] 


[Ill] 


American  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


ST.  IVES  FISHING  BOATS 
BY  HAYLEY  LEVER 


[113] 


American  Section,  Panama^-Pacijic  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


MOTHER  AND  CHILD 
BY  JOHN  H.  TWACHTMAN 


[ 115] 


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Ch 

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cn 

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!Xl  Q 

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[117] 


American  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


OCTOBER  MORNING 
BY  BEN  FOSTER 


[119] 


H 

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Ph 

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c/2 

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Eh 

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[121] 


American  Section,  Panama- Pacific  Exposition^  San  Francisco 


[123] 


THE  EMERALD  ROBE 
BY  ROBERT  H.  NISBET 


1 


American  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 

YOUTH 

BY  JOSEPHINE  PADDOCK 


[ 125] 


o o 

U O 

w 


o 

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o 


[127] 


American  Section^  Panama^Pacific  ExpositioUt  San  Francisco 


[129] 


MY  FAMILY 

BY  EDMUND  C.  TARBELL 


[131] 


A MOTHER  AND  HER  SONS 
BY  ROCKWELL  KENT 


American  Section^  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


[133] 


TANGIER 

BY  ALEXANDER  ROBINSON 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 

PART  ONE 


Italian  Section,  Panamn^Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


THE  GREEN  SHAWL 
BY  CAAHLLO  INNOCENTI 

[136] 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 

PART  ONE 


Despite  the  petulant  pronouncement  of  Whistler  that  art  knows 
no  country,  it  becomes  increasingly  apparent  that  the  element  of 
nationality  is  the  most  potent  of  all  aesthetic  characteristics.  The 
butterfly  conception  of  beauty,  while  an  effective  weapon  when 
employed  against  the  Philistine,  fails  to  enlist  the  sympathies  or  augment 
the  sum  of  knowledge.  It  is  through  studying  the  art  of  other  lands  that  we 
can  alone  glean  an  accurate  impression  of  our  own,  and  this  is  not  the  least 
reason  why  we  should  extend  generous  welcome  to  the  stranger.  In  the 
ensuing  survey  of  foreign  art  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition  special  consid- 
eration will  be  accorded  only  those  countries  which  were  officially  represented. 
Though  there  were  numerous  isolated  canvases  in  the  International  Section 
that  might  otherwise  invite  comment,  we  shall  confine  our  attention  to  nations 
rather  than  to  individuals. 

As  the  first  country  to  respond  to  the  appeal  of  popular  life  and  shake  off 
the  sterilizing  formalism  of  Church  and  Court,  Holland  claims  a leading 
place  in  the  history  of  modern  painting.  It  matters  little  that  there  was  a 
dreary,  barren  hiatus  following  the  death  of  Ruisdael,  Hobbema,  and  Pieter 
de  Hooch.  The  sturdy  Dutch  were  simply  biding  their  time,  and  when,  under 
the  inspiration  of  the  French  romantic  movement  of  1830,  attention  was 
again  directed  to  native  theme,  they  readily  reconquered  their  lost  prestige. 
The  chief  names  in  this  renaissance  of  the  art  of  the  Netherlands  are  Bos- 
boom,  Israels,  Mauve,  Weissenbruch,  and  the  brothers  Alaris.  They  it  was 
who  laid  the  foundations  of  the  contemporary  Dutch  school.  Through  their 
sympathetic  appreciation  of  nature  and  their  power  of  synthetic  presentation 
they  re-affirmed  the  fundamental  principles  of  their  forbears.  It  is  the  men 
of  the  second  generation  such  as  Blommers,  Breitner,  Witsen,  Gorter,  Isaac 
Israels,  and  van  Mastenbroek  who  figured  most  prominently  at  San 


[137] 


IMPRESSIONS 


Francisco,  and  it  may  be  asserted  without  hesitation  that  they  preserve  intact 
the  national  artistic  patrimony. 

Like  their  Fontaineblean-Barbizon  predecessors  the  Dutchmen  are  Ijy 
preference  tonalists.  Their  pictures  are  studies  in  atmospheric  unity  rather 
thaP  specific  transcriptions  of  line  or  form.  Drifting  in  from  the  sea  or  rising 
from  lush  meadow  and  lazy  canal  is  an  all-pervading  moisture,  a diffused, 
modified  radiance  that  gives  to  the  land  and  its  art  a characteristically  persua- 
sive appeal.  One  and  all  these  men  are  sincere,  unaffected  nature  poets. 
No  restless  individualism  disturbs  their  harmonious  compositions.  Repose, 
not  revolution,  is  the  sentiment  they  inspire.  ^Yhether  treating  broad,  pano- 
ramic outdoor  motive  or  modest  cottage  interior  it  is  light,  or  rather  tone, 
which  remains  the  centre  of  interest.  You  will  note  this  alike  in  the  busy 
glimpses  of  Rotterdam  harbour  by  van  Mastenbroek,  or  the  irregular  spires 
and  rambling  house-fronts  of  AYitsen.  The  same  tendency  is  visible  in  the  work 
of  more  advanced  talents  such  as  Hendrik  Jan  Wolter  who,  despite  his  free- 
dom of  stroke  and  purity  of  colour,  relies  primarily  upon  the  unifying 
possibilities  of  atmosphere. 

In  surveying  the  spacious,  well-appointed  rooms  devoted  to  Dutch  art  at 
San  Francisco  one  was  impressed  by  the  sanity  and  lialance  that  characterized 
the  can^'ases  as  a whole.  The  themes  were,  as  may  be  inferred,  normal  and 
unpretentious,  the  technique  sound  and  devoid  of  eccentricity.  A conspicu- 
ous measure  of  approval  greeted  the  appearance  of  Breitner's  simple  and 
effective  Amsterdam  Timber  Port,  while  Marius  A.  J.  Bauer,  with  a small 
panel  entitled  Oriental  Equestrian,  and  a series  of  dramatic  fantasias  in 
black  and  white,  contributed  his  usual  richly  imaginative  note.  A less  famil- 
iar figure  was  Mr.  Willem  Witsen,  the  Commissioner  of  Fine  Arts,  who,  with 
his  portraits  in  the  Netherlands  Pavilion,  his  two  views  of  Amsterdam,  and 
his  etchings,  revealed  himself  the  possessor  of  a definitely  formulated  artistic- 
individuality.  To  a rare  degree  of  objective  verity  Mr.  Witsen  adds  a per- 
sonal subjectivity  which,  in  its  every  manifestation,  is  instinct  with  poetic 
feeling.  One  can  indeed  but  congratulate  the  Resident  Commissioner-Cien- 
eral,  the  Honourable  H.  A.  van  Coenen  Torchiana  and  his  able  staff  upon  the 
success  of  the  Netherlauds  Section.  Conservative,  and  basing  itself  confidently 
upon  the  production  of  the  past,  contemporary  Dutch  art,  in  no  sense  radical 
or  modernistic,  illustrates  the  value  of  a consistently  maintained  tradition. 


[ 138  ] 


[139] 


BINNENKANT:  WINTER  IN  AMSTERDAM 
BY  WILLEM  WITSEN 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 


Sivedish  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


WINTER  IN  THE  FOREST  BY  ANSHELIM  SCHULTZBERG 

It  was  to  the  Frenchmen  of  a later  date  that  the  more  eclectic  Swedes 
turned  for  inspiration.  The  “phalanx  of  1830”  had  already  been  superseded 
by  grey-toned  naturalist  and  sparkling  himinist  when  Zorn,  Ernst  Josephson, 
Karl  Nordstrom,  Larsson,  and  Liljefors  flocked  to  Northern  France.  They 
did  not  as  a rule  remain  away  long  enough  to  lose  sympathy  with  Scandin- 
avian type  and  scene.  One  by  one  they  returned  to  fling  defiance  at  the 
Academy  and  initiate  one  of  the  most  vigorous  and  wholesome  movements  in 
the  history  of  current  art.  Under  the  commanding  influence  of  Nordstrom 
the  Konstnarsforbundet  became  the  most  important  organization  of  its  kind 
in  Sweden.  And  yet,  while  this  particular  society  has  at  various  periods 
included  in  its  membership  virtually  all  the  leading  artists,  certain  of  the 
better  men,  restive  under  its  restrictions,  have  from  time  to  time  broken  away. 
It  was  from  such  independent  spirits,  as  well  as  from  other  sources,  that  the 
Swedish  Section  at  San  Francisco  was  recruited. 


[141] 


IMPRESSIONS 


There  is  no  gainsaying  the  impression  which  the  art  of  these  virile,  clear- 
eyed Northmen  made  upon  the  exposition  public.  Admirably  arranged 
by  the  Swedish  Commissioner  of  Fine  Arts,  Mr.  Anshelm  Schultzberg,  who 
here  duplicated  his  successes  at  St.  Louis  and  at  Rome,  the  several  galleries 
reflected  that  breadth  of  comprehension  without  which  painting  remains  a mere 
dilettante  diversion.  The  Fjaestad  room  with  its  hand-carved  furniture, 
tapestries,  and  amply  spaced  canvases  offered  an  object  lesson  which  local 
museum  and  exhibition  officials  should  take  seriously  to  heart.  This  artist, 
whose  work  is  at  once  stylistic  and  naturalistic,  who  is  a marvellous  observer 
and  a master  of  decorative  design,  proved  one  of  the  outstanding  features  of 
the  exposition.  An  older  and  better-known  man  who  was  likewise  accorded 
collective  representation  was  the  animal  painter,  Bruno  Liljefors,  while  the 
landscapes  contributed  by  the  Commissioner  himself  proved  that,  despite 
official  duties,  he  is  more  than  maintaining  his  position  as  a syinj^athetic  and 
veracious  interpreter  of  forest  stillness  and  snow-clad  hillside. 

While  it  was  difficult,  from  so  well  balanced  an  ensemble,  to  detach  speci- 
fic individuals,  it  was  impossible  to  overlook  the  work  of  two  young  and  less 
widely  known  men,  namely,  Gabriel  Strandberg  and  Helmer  Osslund.  The 
former  selects  his  types  from  the  poorer  quarters  of  Stockholm  and  portrays 
them  with  luminous  stroke  and  penetrative  intuition.  The  latter  finds  his 
inspiration  in  North  Sweden,  where  he  records  the  clear  colour,  sharply 
silhouetted  forms,  and  mighty  rhythm  of  seemingly  illimitable  stretches  of 
mountain  and  sky.  You  instantly  discern  in  the  work  of  the  Swedes — in  the 
bold  Lofoten  Island  sketches  of  Anna  Boberg  or  the  delicate  panels  of  Oskar 
Bergman — a frankness  of  vision  and  directness  of  presentation  as  rare  as 
they  are  stimulating.  Unfatigued  and  lacking  in  sophistication,  the  art  of 
Sweden  derives  its  strength  from  the  silent,  persistent  community  between 
nature  and  man.  The  elements  are  few,  but  they  are  all-sufficient. 

A less  uniform  development  and  a more  truculent  physiognomy  mark  the 
artistic  production  of  latter-day  Norway.  Trained  for  the  most  part  in 
Germany,  the  leaders,  such  as  Christian  Krohg  and  Edvard  iNIunch,  are  tur- 
bulent and  stressful  in  their  outlook  upon  nature  and  character.  Both  dom- 
inant personalities,  the  rugged  naturalism  of  Krohg  becomes  with  Munch  a 
species  of  restless,  haunting  evocation,  now  sensuous,  now  psychic  in  appeal. 
It  was  these  men,  together  with  numerous  recruits  from  the  ranks  of  the  new 


[142] 


Swedish  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


[143] 


THE  CRIPPLE 
BY  GABRIEL  STRANDBERG 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 


Hungarian  Section,  Panama- Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


LONGCHAMPS  BY  BATTHYANYI  GYULA 

school,  who  constituted  the  exhibition  eollected  Director  Jens  Thiis  for  the 
delectation  of  San  Francisco.  Lacking  in  homogeneity,  though  not  in  interest, 
the  display  ran  the  gamut  from  tentative  essays  in  impressionism  by  Collett 
and  Thaulow  to  the  invigorating  chromatic  experiments  of  Henrik  Lund  and 
Pola  Gauguin. 

Save  at  Cologne,  Berlin,  and  Vienna,  where  they  have  appeared  with  un- 
questioned success,  the  work  of  the  more  advanced  men  has  not  proved  sym- 
pathetie  to  the  general  public.  While  it  is  impossible  to  deny  the  d.ynamic 
power  and  fundamental  pictorial  endowment  which  these  compositions  reflect 
they  not  infrequently  reveal  a eertain  want  of  sensitiveness.  iMore  talented 
than  their  neighbours,  the  Norwegians  are  lacking  in  discipline.  If  the  art 
of  Sweden  is  a clearly  formulated  and  in  a measure  collective  expression,  that 
of  Norway  remains  defiantly  individual.  A stormy  instability  of  temper 


[145] 


IMPRESSIONS 


combined  with  the  lack  of  a central  tradition,  has  thus  far  prevented  these 
men  from  assuming  their  rightful  position  in  the  province  of  contemporary 
painting  or  sculpture. 

Although  not  represented  in  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts,  or  its  precipitately 
constructed  Annex,  the  Danish  Government  contributed  several  canvases 
toward  the  enhancement  of  the  official  Pavilion.  Viewed  at  leisure  in  spa- 
cious, homelike  reception  suites,  these  few  subjects,  all  of  which  were  from  the 
Royal  Gallery  in  Copenhagen,  conveyed  an  agreeable  impression  of  the  essential 
characteristics  of  Danish  art.  The  painters  included  H.  and  W.  Hammer, 
Exner,  Roed,  Ottesen,  Hansen,  Balsgaard,  Kyhn,  Petersen,  and  Christensen. 
They  belong  to  the  epoch  before  Kroyer  carried  northward  the  gospel  of  light 
and  air,  and  before  Willumsen  stirred  his  countrymen  to  fury  with  the  premon- 
itions of  Post-Impressionism.  It  was  not  “ Frie  Udstilling”  art  that  greeted 
you  from  figured  wall  and  looked  down  upon  flower-set  table. 

Face  to  face  with  these  simple,  engaging  bits  of  still-life,  or  glimpses  of  sunlit 
river  and  ripening  grain  field,  one  experienced  a feeling  of  peace  and  repose. 
Here  passed  a peasant  workman  with  a cheery  “God  Aften”  to  the  landed  pro- 
prietor and  his  wife.  There  sat  a stolid  market  woman  from  Amager  counting 
her  hard-earned  coppers.  The  feverish  scramble  for  sensation,  the  shuffle  of  a 
thousand  anxious  feet,  the  crudity  and  confusion  of  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts 
with  its  heterogeneous  contents  vanished  like  a nightmare  amid  the  soothing 
propriety  of  these  discreetly  appointed  rooms.  In  their  quiet,  unpretentious 
way  the  Danes  appear  to  have  somewhat  the  better  of  the  argument.  They 
have  not  lost  sight  of  the  true  function  of  oil  painting,  which,  be  it  intimated, 
is  appropriately  to  embellish  a given  wall  space.  Their  conception  of  life  is 
modest  and  measured,  and  this  attitude  is  eloquently  reflected  in  their  art. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  divine  why  these  particular  subjects  should  have  been 
sent  to  America.  One  can  readily  picture  the  mellow,  erudite  Director  Mad- 
sen sauntering  through  the  Kunstmusaeum  and  selecting  them  deliberately, 
one  by  one,  each  designed  to  convey  its  special  message  of  beauty  and  benignity 
to  a restless,  transatlantic  world.  While  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  did  not 
include  a few  examples  by  Kdbke  and  IMarstrand,  this  would  have  been  asking 
too  much  of  such  a savant  and  solicitous  custodian. 

Although  it  seems  a far  cry  from  the  art  of  the  Northern  countries  to  that 
of  Hungary,  the  passage  may  be  made  by  way  of  Finland,  for  the  Finns  and 
Hungarians  are  allied  both  ethnically  and  aesthetically.  There  having  been 


[146] 


Norwegian  Section,  Panama- Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


From  the  Shulz  Collection 


SUMMER  NIGHT:  AASGAARDSTRAND 
BY  EDVARD  MUNCH 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 


Hungarian  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


COUNTESS  BATTHYANYI  LAJOS  BY  VASZARY  JANOS 

however  but  a single  Finnish  artist,  Axel  Gallen-Kallela,  on  view  at  San  Fran- 
cisco, we  shall  proceed  to  a consideration  of  the  work  of  the  music-  and  colour- 
loving  Magyars.  The  art  of  Hungary  is  before  else  a typically  rhapsodic 
expression.  You  feel  in  it  a marked  degree  of  rhythm  and  a rich,  vibrant 
harmony  rarely  if  ever  encountered  elsewhere.  There  has  thus  far  been  in  the 
Land  of  the  Four  Rivers  and  the  Three  Mountains  no  visible  divorce  between 
beauty  and  utility.  The  painter’s  attitude  toward  his  profession,  while  more 
conscious,  resembles  that  of  the  peasant  toward  the  simpler  tasks  of  eye  and 
hand.  In  each  you  meet  the  same  deep-rooted  race  spirit,  the  same  love 
of  vivid  chromatic  effect,  the  same  fervid  lyric  passion. 

Hungarian  painting  in  the  modern  signification  of  the  term  dates  from  the 
early  pleinair  canvases  of  the  pioneer  impressionist,  Szinyei  Merse  Pal,  who, 
at  the  Munich  exhibition  of  1869,  first  came  in  contact  with  the  epoch-making 


[149] 


I M P R E S S I ON  S 


Frenchmen.  And  yet  while  Majalis,  just  as  Manet’s  Le  Dejeuner  sur 
riierbe,  marks  the  dividing  line  between  the  old  and  the  new,  it  was  not  until 
1896  when  Hollosy  Simon  moved  his  classes  from  the  Bavarian  capital  to 
Nagybanya,  that  the  tendency  assumed  definite  shape.  The  work  of  Hollosy 
is  to-day  being  continued  by  Ferenczy  Karoly,  while  at  Kecskemet  we  have 
Ivanyi  Bela,  and  at  Szolnok,  on  the  banks  of  the  Tisza,  is  Fenyes  Adolf  and 
another  flourishing  colony.  Everywhere  throughout  Hungary  you  will  note 
a similar  return  to  the  salutary  fecundity  of  native  scene  and  national  inspira- 
tion. The  movement  is  best  typified  in  the  most  talented  personality  of  all, 
Rippl-Ronai  Jozsef  who,  after  years  of  Paris  artist  life,  is  now  serenely  se- 
questered at  his  birthplace,  Kaposvar,  producing  the  best  work  of  his  career. 
Although  independent  of  temper,  it  is  necessary  for  such  men  to  exhibit  in  a 
body,  their  memorable  debut  of  1897  having  been  followed  a decade  later  by 
the  formation  of  the  Circle  of  Magyar  Impressionists  and  Naturalists,  cur- 
rently known  as  the  “M.  I.  E.  N.  K.”  A still  more  recent  group  is  the  Nyolczak 
or  Eight,  whose  aims  and  ideas  are  patently  expressionistic. 

It  is  these  tendencies  which,  be  it  confessed,  were  somewhat  ineffectually 
elucidated  at  San  Francisco.  The  manifest  intention  was  to  have  offered 
a more  or  less  inclusive  survey  of  contemporary  Hungarian  artistic  activity, 
yet  for  one  reason  or  another  this  was  scarceR  achieved.  The  group  of 
sketches  by  Rippl-Ronai  did  not  fail  to  disappoint  those  already  familiar  with 
this  brilliant  creative  colourist’s  achievement.  Csok  1st  van  fared  somewhat 
better,  but  one  missed  Reti  Istvan,  Perhnutter  Izsak,  Czobel  Bela,  and  other 
names  of  kindred  importance.  Reth,  Kesmarky,  Korody,  Csaky,  and  numer- 
ous talented  young  radicals  whose  work  is  as  well  known  in  Berlin  and  Paris 
as  it  is  in  Budapest,  were  also  absent.  The  physiognomy  of  current  Hun- 
garian painting  as  presented  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition  was  in  short 
varied  but  incomplete.  The  public  was  hardly  able  to  divine  from  this  par- 
ticular offering  the  true  significance  of  modern  Magyar  art.  That  fruitful 
movement  which,  on  the  one  hand,  aims  to  preserve  unspoiled  the  eloquent 
peasant  heritage  and,  on  the  other,  to  foster  an  equally  national  though  more 
comprehensive  development  was  not  clearly  indicated.  A more  serious  study  of 
racial  characteristics  and  a less  spasmodic  choice  are  necessary  in  order  to 
convey  a convincing  sense  of  aesthetic  aspiration  and  attainment. 


[150] 


Hungarian  Section,  Panama- Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 

HUXGAEIAN  HOME  ALTAR 
BY  JAVOR  pal 

[151] 


[153] 


AUTUMNAL  DAA" 

BY  ARNOLD  MARC  GORTER 


[155  1 


AMONG  THE  BIRCHES 
BY  CARL  LARSSON 


SlMlinh  Stvh'inii  /'iiHKiitii  l'~u'ith'  (''iNiiti’t'si’i'  (’iMU'ti's,v  I'f  Mi’n,  l 'hivi-lM  IUu'ul\i>m  .Siiviloi' 


International  Section,  Panama- Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


THE  SHORE 
BY  LEO  PUTZ 


[1591 


a 

<1 

Xfl 

Pi  ^ 
O ^ 

^ iTi 

Ph  o 

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pp  pp 


[ 1^>1 1 


Swedish  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


[ 163  ^ 


ITinifjarinn  Secti07i,  Panama- Pacific  Expo.ntion,  San  Francisco 


International  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 
Copyright,  Franz  Hanfstaengl,  Munchen 


SUMMER  NIGHT 
BY  FRANZ  VON  STUCK 


[165] 


[167] 


IN  THE  RHINE  MEADOWS 
BY  HEINRICH  VON  ZtiGEL 


[169] 


WINTER  ROAD 
BY  THOROLF  IIOLMBOE 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 
PART  TWO 


Italian  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco  Courtesy  of  Mr.  Nicola  Bonfilio 


THE  PROCESSION 
BY  ETTORE  TITO 

[172] 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 

PART  TWO 


IF  it  was  the  Dutchmen  of  the  seventeenth  century  who  freed  painting 
from  influences  that  were  monastic  and  monarchical,  it  was  the  French- 
men of  the  nineteenth  who  initiated  what  may  be  described  as  the  modern 
movement.  For  those  who  confess  to  a passion  for  precision,  it  is  well 
to  recall  1870  as  the  date  which  marks  the  starting  point  of  the  contemporary 
school.  It  was  in  the  spring  of  this  year,  when  visiting  his  friend  de  Nittis 
in  the  environs  of  Paris,  that  Manet  painted  the  luminous,  fresh-toned  canvas 
entitled  The  Garden,  disclosing  a delightful  family  group  seen  in  the  open 
under  the  spreading  trees.  Following  the  war,  French  art  evinced  renewed 
vigour,  the  Impressionists,  after  an  arduous  struggle,  finally  succeeding  in 
demonstrating  to  a recalcitrant  public  the  fluid  beauty  of  atmosphere  and  the 
charm  of  simple,  everyday  scene.  On  all  sides  there  was  a spontaneous 
return  to  life,  nor  was  this  tendency  without  perceptible  influence  upon  the 
painting  of  the  day.  It  is  this  re-affirmation  of  the  fundamental  race  spirit 
which  those  who  organized  the  French  Section  at  San  Francisco  endeavoured 
to  illustrate.  The  display  showed  on  one  hand  what  France,  despite 
defeat,  was  able  to  accomplish,  and  on  the  other  that  which  she  is  now,  in  the 
fullness  of  her  power,  currently  achieving. 

You  could  not  stroll  through  the  Retrospective  Exhibition,  which  was 
housed  in  the  imposing  French  Pavilion,  without  having  acutely  revived  certain 
early,  unforgettable  memories.  Here  was  Manet’s  Balcony,  showing  Mile. 
Berthe  Morisot,  the  painter  Guillemet,  and  their  companion  grouped  behind  the 
familiar  pale  green  grating.  There  was  Besnard’s  Portrait  of  Alphonse  Legros, 
while  a few  paces  farther  along  Carriere’s  Christ  peered  out  of  a vague, 
poignant,  spirit  kingdom.  Puvis  was  there,  and  so  were  Degas,  Fantin-Latour, 
Renoir,  Cazin,  and  the  sumptuous  and  hieratic  Gustave  Aloreau.  Certain 
of  the  more  radical  figures,  including  Cezanne,  Gauguin,  and  Toulouse- 


[173] 


IMPRESSIONS 


Lautrec  were  also  on  view,  though,  alas,  but  meagrely  presented.  The  atmos- 
phere of  the  Luxembourg  was  in  brief  transported  to  San  Francisco  with 
the  coming  of  these  canvases  which,  in  a sense,  constitute  the  vanguard  of 
modernism.  It  was  a notable  collection,  and  while  as  a rule  the  best  examples 
by  the  various  artists  were  not  in  evidence,  yet  enough  remained  to  convey 
the  essential  message  of  the  men  selected. 

If  the  galleries  in  the  Pavilion  constituted  a species  of  miniature  Luxem- 
bourg, those  devoted  to  French  painting  in  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  offered 
a judicious  resume  of  recent  Salon  activity.  Designed  to  include  work  done 
during  the  past  five  years,  one  noted  with  pleasure  subjects  by  Besnard, 
Blanche,  Cottet,  Dauchez,  Le  Sidaner,  Roll,  and  Simon  as  well  as  a few  by 
such  relatively  advanced  spirits  as  Maurice  Denis,  Signac,  and  Vallotton. 
A scrupulously  sustained  eclecticism  distinguished  the  offering  as  a whole.  It 
was  patently,  indeed  almost  painfully,  apparent  that  an  attempt  had  been  made 
to  reconcile  all  differences,  to  fuse  all  factions  into  approved  official  concord. 
The  result,  as  may  be  anticipated,  was  unconvincing,  for  in  like  circumstances 
conventionality  invariably  triumphs.  Those  already  familiar  with  contem- 
porary French  painting  experienced  scant  difficulty  in  arriving  at  their 
respective  conclusions.  They  knew  what  to  accept  and  what  to  condone. 
With  the  general  public,  matters  were  more  complicated.  The  art  of  France  is 
nevertheless  sufficiently  diverse  to  satisfy  all  demands.  It  presents  a mixture 
of  academic  routine  and  seemingly  rampant  radicalism.  So  great  is  the 
productivity  of  this  marvellous  people  that  every  conceivable  artistic  mani- 
festation finds  place  upon  exhibition  wall.  The  most  antithetical  tendencies 
flourish  side  by  side  and  appear  to  attract  an  equally  numerous  and  ardent 
following. 

And  still,  despite  its  baffling  complexity,  French  art  remains  inherently 
sane,  balanced,  and  logical.  Beneath  each  apparent  eccentricity  lurks  an 
intellectual  integrity  that  sooner  or  later  discloses  itself  to  view.  And  in 
every  Frenchman  may  be  found  a substratum  of  classicism  the  function  of 
which  seems  to  be  the  constant  simplification  of  form  and  clarification  of  feel- 
ing. It  is  some  such  impression  that  one  could  gather  from  a study  of  the 
French  Section  at  San  Francisco.  While  not  particularly  stimulating,  the 
ensemble  served  its  purpose  sufficiently  well.  To  have  demanded  more  in 
these  tumultuous  times  would  indeed  have  been  ungracious. 


[174] 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 


French  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  SanFrancisco 

THE  PAINTERS  BY  FELIX  VALLOTTON 

Though  the  Frenchmen  have  for  close  upon  a century  furnished  the  most 
potent  impetus  known  to  the  artistic  world  it  is  only  recently  that  the  Italians 
may  be  said  to  have  come  into  their  own.  The  foremost  figures  in  the  develop- 
ment of  latter-day  Italian  painting  are  Domenico  Morelli  and  Giovanni 
Segantini,  the  one  a fervid  naturalist,  the  other  the  founder  of  the  Divisionist 
School.  It  is  unnecessary  here  to  discuss  the  career  of  the  ardent  Neapolitan 
who  passed  from  the  pose  of  romanticism  into  the  pure  light  of  day,  or  to 
detail  the  heroic  life  struggle  of  the  painter  of  Alpine  scene  who  became  one 
of  the  incontestable  masters  of  the  closing  years  of  the  last  century.  Though 
neither  Morelli  nor  Segantini  was  represented  in  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts,  we 
had,  in  partial  compensation,  an  interesting  group  of  men  mainly  from  Rome 
with  a casual  sprinkling  of  Venetians. 

Conceived  along  the  same  conservative,  not  to  say  conventional,  lines  as 
the  French  Section,  the  Italians  nevertheless  appeared  to  better  advantage. 


[175] 


IMPRESSIONS 


owing  to  the  effectiveness  of  their  installation.  You  here  observed  the  influ- 
ence of  Vienna,  which  came  to  us  via  Venice,  for  in  these  spacious,  lu’ight- 
toned  galleries  one  almost  fancied  oneself  at  one  of  those  admirable  ex- 
l)ositions  in  the  Giardini  Pubblici  which  have  done  so  much  to  stimulate 
Southern  European  taste.  Prominent  among  the  exhibitors  at  San  Francisco 
was  the  amazing  Mancini,  who  sent  three  pseudo  portraits,  surcharged  with 
pigment  and  saturated  with  sheer  Latin  lusciousness  of  tone.  The  magician 
of  the  Via  Margutta  is  indeed  incomparable  as  ever,  and  quite  obliterated  his 
associates.  The  prismatic  palette  of  Camillo  Innocenti,  which  has  acquired 
a certain  Gallic  grace,  was  seen  to  advantage  in  a quartette  of  canvases,  the 
best  of  which  was  The  Green  Shawl  which  by  the  by  was  the  earliest  in  date. 
If  Innocenti  has  become  a modified,  mundane  impressionist,  Ettore  Tito 
remains  a fluent  exponent  of  genre  and  figure  i)ainting  who  likewise  appeared 
to  more  purpose  with  an  older  work.  The  Procession,  which  carried  one's 
memories  back  a full  score  of  years  to  the  Venice  Exposition  of  189.5. 

A glance  about  the  galleries  was  suflicient  to  disclose  a number  of  excel- 
lent works,  among  whieh  must  l)e  mentioned  Giuseppe  iMentessi’s  austere 
and  imaginative  fantasy  entitled  The  Soul  of  the  Stones,  Emma  Ciardi’s 
ddie  Avenue:  Bol)oli  Gardens,  and  two  sensuous  colour  invocations  by 
Enrico  Lionne,  designated  respectively  as  Red  Roses  and  The  Return  of 
Divine  Love.  The  latter  contriluited  the  only  modern  note  to  a display 
the  significance  of  which  would  have  been  considerably  augmented  by  a rea- 
sonable concession  to  more  progressive  taste.  One  regretted  in  partieular  the 
entire  absence  of  the  Divisionist  School,  already  referred  to,  which  owes  its 
inception  to  Segantini  and  Previati.  This  group,  which  includes  such  un- 
questioned talents  as  Carlo  Eornara,  Cinotti,  Ramponi,  Zanon,  and  others, 
appeared  with  signal  success  at  the  Lat in-British  Exhibition  at  Shepherd's 
Bush  three  years  ago.  Their  work  is  luminous  and  anti-academic,  and  no 
survey  of  contemporary  Italian  painting  which  does  not  aceord  them  adequate 
consideration  can  claim  completeness. 

Not  the  least  disappointing  feature  of  the  Expositioii  was  the  lamentalfle 
absence  of  Spain,  the  one  foreign  country  whose  official  participation  would 
seem  to  have  been  essential  to  the  undertaking.  In  default  of  any  sort  of 
regular  representation,  a few  stray  Spanish  artists  found  their  way  to  the 
Pacific  Coast.  Among  these  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  record  the  names  of 


[176] 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 


French  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 

HAUBOCR  OF  ROTTERDAM  BV  ALBERT  MARQEET 


Eliseo  Meifren,  Gonzalo  Bilbao,  and  the  lirotliers  Zubiaurre,  all  of  whom 
contributed  work  of  varying  merit.  As  it  happened,  however.  Peninsular 
art  was  not  entirely  overlooked,  for  revolution-ridden  little  Portugal  came 
gallantly  to  the  rescue.  The  three  leading  Portuguese  painters  of  the  day, 
Columbano,  Malhoa,  and  Selgado  revealed  themselves  as  able  personalities. 
Cohimliano  is  a portraitist  of  the  older  persuasion,  possessing  a discern- 
ing grasp  of  character  and  a subdued,  dignified  sense  of  colour.  Oue 
recalls  AYatts  in  confronting  the  serious,  earnest  jDhysiognomies  of  his  poets, 
players,  and  men  of  affairs,  saving  for  the  fact  that  the  Engiishman  never 
drew  or  modelled  with  such  suave  surety.  In  Malhoa  was  disclosed  the  leading 
Portuguese  painter  of  genre  subject.  Somewhat  suggestive  of  the  Valencian 
Sorolla,  though  without  the  latter’s  superlative  dexterity,  Malhoa  achieves 
his  best  effects  in  such  episodes  as  The  Nightingale’s  Veranda,  where  his 
sympathy  with  native  type  and  mastery  of  diffused  light  find  congenial  scope. 


[1771 


IMPRESSIONS 


With  Selgado  may  be  coupled  his  most  successful  pupil,  Senhor  Adriano  de 
Sousa-Lopes,  the  Portuguese  Commissioner  of  Fine  Arts,  whose  facile  brush 
and  spontaneous  love  of  colour  have,  despite  his  lack  of  years,  won  for  him  a 
distinguished  position  among  the  men  of  the  younger  generation. 

The  manifest  traditionalism  that,  at  San  Francisco  at  least,  characterized 
the  art  of  the  foregoing  nations,  could  scarcely  have  failed  to  repeat  itself  in 
the  production  of  those  countries  which  are  in  a measure  directly  dependent 
upon  European  inspiration.  If  it  is  difficult  to  discover  much  that  is  vigorous 
or  individual  in  the  work  of  North  Americans,  still  more  so  is  it  hard  to  perceive 
originality  and  independence  of  temper  among  our  neighbours  farther  south. 
As  the  most  prosperous  and  progressive  of  the  South  American  republics,  the 
Argentine  not  unnaturally  evinces  keen  interest  in  matters  artistic.  Princely 
private  collectors  such  as  the  late  Senor  Jose  Prudencio  de  Guerrico,  Senor 
Santamarina,  and  Senor  Pellerano  have  done  much  toward  familiarizing  the 
public  of  Buenos  Aires  with  the  best  contemporary  European  work.  Regular 
and  special  exhibitions  also  contribute  their  share,  yet  the  vital  impulse  must 
always  come  from  the  individual  himself.  The  final  result  rests  with  the 
artist,  and  it  is  a pleasure  to  record  that  creative  as  well  as  cultural  conditions 
in  the  Argentine  show  unmistakable  promise. 

Just  as  France  is  the  foster-mother  and  chief  instructress  of  the  painters 
and  sculptors  of  North  America,  so  Italy,  and  to  a certain  extent  France  also, 
act  in  similar  capacity  toward  South  American  aspirants.  The  students  from 
Argentina  desirous  of  completing  their  training  go  by  preference  to  Turin, 
Florence,  Rome,  or  Paris.  Whether  in  Italy  or  France  they  come  under  influ- 
ences more  official  than  fecund,  and  this  may  be  described  as  the  cardinal 
defect  of  their  production.  They  give  us  types  from  Tuscany  or  Brittany 
rather  than  racy  and  indigenous  Argentinos.  Thanks  however  to  the  recent 
revival  of  interest  in  what  is  currently  known  as  “el  arte  nacional,”  such  cos- 
mopolitan pretensions  are  being  corrected,  and  interest  is  being  concentrated 
upon  themes  which  are  native  and  local.  In  the  work  of  Jorge  Bermudez, 
Pompeo  Boggio,  and  the  sculptor,  Alberto  Lagos,  are  welcome  evidences  that 
European  predominance  is  on  the  wane.  The  landscape  painters,  too,  notably 
Americo  Panozzi  and  his  colleagues,  are  disclosing  undoubted  personal  charm 
and  freshness  of  vision. 

And  thus,  while  your  initial  impressions  of  the  Argentine  Section  at  San 
Francisco  may  have  seenied^disappointing,  you  would,  upon  closer  inspection. 


[178] 


French  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


[179] 


SEATED  WOMAN 
BY  CHARLES  COTTET 


FOREIGN  PAINTING 


Argentine  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  Safi  Francisco 

THP  YOUNG  LANDLADY  BY  JORGE  BERMUDEZ 

have  found  not  a little  to  interest  and  admire.  Artistically  speaking,  the 
Argentinos  are  awakening  to  their  inherent  possibilities.  From  the  dean  of  the 
native  school,  Eduardo  Sivori,  to  Antonio  Alice,  one  of  the  youngest  meml)ers 
of  the  group,  the  spirit  seems  encouraging  and  the  desire  to  accomplish  some- 
thing is  increasingly  manifest.  A word  of  praise  should  in  conclusion  be 
accorded  the  installation  of  the  exhibit  in  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts,  Sehor  Oliva 
Navarro  having  achieved  a most  satisfactory  result  with  the  single  room 
at  his  disposal. 

We  shall  not,  in  the  present  circumstances,  consider  the  showing  made  by 
other  Latin-American  countries  such  as  I ruguay,  Cuba,  and  the  Philippines. 
Isolated  individuals,  including  the  I ruguayan,  Manuel  Rose,  and  the  Cuban. 
Leopoldo  Romanach,  may  have  risen  above  the  level,  yet  the  general  average 


[ 181  ] 


IMPRESSIONS 


was  wanting  in  both  decision  and  distinction.  It  is  furthermore  not  our  in- 
tention to  discuss  the  comprehensively  organized  exhibits  of  China  and  Japan, 
or  the  modernistic  contents  of  the  x\nnex.  These  informal  impressions  do 
not  claim  to  be  exhaustive,  but  merely  to  bring  under  closer  scrutiny  certain 
salient  features  of  development.  Surveying  in  kindly,  equable  perspective 
the  undertaking  as  a whole,  one  can  scarcely  escape  the  conviction  that  its 
chief  shortcoming  proved  a lack  of  coherence.  This  pageant  of  art,  as  it  was 
christened  by  coastal  panegyrists,  while  imposing,  was  lacking  in  simplicity. 
A less  pretentious,  and  at  the  same  time  more  concisely  formulated  programme, 
must  assuredly  have  produced  different  results.  Judged  for  example  by  the 
standard  set  biennially  at  Venice,  we  have  not  thus  far  solved  the  problem  of 
assembling  a satisfactory  exhibition  of  international  painting  and  sculpture. 
Choice  should  be  more  discriminating,  and  there  must  above  all  loom  behind 
such  a task  some  concrete,  unifying  idea.  We  do  not  desire  to  see,  nor  should 
we  be  subjected  to,  all  art,  but  rather  those  manifestations  of  artistic  activity 
which  alone  illustrate  certain  specific  principles.  It  is  not  the  spectacular, 
nor  is  it  mere  numerical  strength,  that  we  are  seeking.  It  is  that  which  is  vi- 
tal, formative,  and  significant. 

While  maintaining  the  approved  critical  balance,  one  must  not  however 
lose  sight  of  the  positive  good  accomplished  by  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposi- 
tion. Generally  speaking  the  reaction  has  been  satisfactory,  and  the  response 
to  the  various  aesthetic  stimuli  has  proved  frank,  spontaneous,  and  un- 
prejudiced. The  three  successive  cultural  waves  which  swept  across  the 
country  following  the  expositions  at  Philadelphia,  Chicago,  and  St.  Louis  have 
finally  overlapped  the  Rockies.  Upon  the  Pacific  slope  the  combined  achieve- 
ments of  Europe  and  America  have  met  and  mingled  with  the  mellow  legacy 
of  Indian  and  Spaniard  and  the  subtle  magic  of  the  Orient.  Geographically 
speaking,  the  circle  is  complete.  It  merely  remains  to  be  seen  how  far  this 
flood  from  the  perennial  fountain  of  beautj"  can  permanently  enrich  a parched 
and  aspiring  community. 


[182] 


Italian  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


THE  BOHEMIAN 
BY  ANTONIO  MANCINI 


[ 183] 


[185] 


BATHERS 

BY  MAURICE  DENIS 


H 

H 

H 

W 

<! 

O 

< 

W 

Q 


ffl 

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u 


[187] 


91 


French  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


THE  COMMUNICANTS 
BY  LUCIEN  SIMON 


[189] 


[191] 


THE  NIGHTINGALE’S  VERANDA 


Uruguayan  Section,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  San  Francisco 


INTERIOR  OF  CAFE 
BY  MANUEL  ROSE 


[193] 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


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Ayscough,  Florence  Wheelock.  Catalogue  of  Chinese  Paintings  Exhibited  at  the 
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Barry,  John  D.  In  the  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  and  the  French  Pavilion.  John  J.  New- 
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Burke,  Katherine  Delmar.  Storied  Walls  of  the  Exposition.  Paul  Elder  and  Company, 
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Cahill,  B.  J.  S.  The  Panama-Pacific  Exposition  from  an  Architect’s  Viewpoint.  The 
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[195] 


BIBLIOGRAPHY- Continued 


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Cheney,  Sheldon.  Art  Lovers’  Guide  to  the  Exposition.  San  Francisco,  1915. 

Clark,  Arthur  B.  The  Significance  of  the  Paintings  at  the  Exposition.  San  Francisco, 
1915. 

Collecting  i\rt  Exhibits  in  War-ridden  Europe.  The  Review  of  Reviews,  vol.  LI,  p.  462-4. 
April,  1915. 

Colour  Scheme  of  the  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition.  The  American  Archi- 
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Critcher,  Edward  Payson.  The  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition.  The  [Multi- 
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Eight  Decorations  by  Frank  Brangwyn  for  the  East  Court  of  the  Panama-Pacific  Inter- 
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Famous  Paintings  for  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  The  International  Studio,  vol. 
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Faville,  W.  B.  Phases  of  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition  Architecture.  The 
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Faville,  W.  B.  The  Panama-California  Exposition,  San  Diego,  California.  The  American 
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Festal  Court,  The.  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  The  American  Architect,  vol.  CIV, 
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Furniss,  George  B.  Gardens  of  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  Garden  Magazine,  vol. 
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Garnett,  Porter.  The  Inscriptions  at  the  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition. 

The  San  Francisco  News  Company,  San  Francisco,  1915. 

Gordon,  Elizabeth.  What  We  Saw  at  [Mada:me  World’s  Fair.  Samuel  Levinson,  San 
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Great  International  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  The.  The  Scientific  A^ierican,  vol. 
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Grey,  Elmer.  The  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition  of  1915.  Scribner's  [Maga- 
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Harada,  Prof.  Jiro.  The  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition  and  its  Meaning.  The 
International  Studio,  vol.  LVI,  p.  186-95.  September,  1915. 

Hardy,  Lowell.  Sculpture  and  Colour  at  the  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition. 

Out  W EST  Mag.\zine,  New  Series,  vol.  VIII,  p.  321-30.  December,  1914. 

Hardy,  Lowell.  The  Architecture  of  the  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition.  The 
Architect  and  Engineer  of  California,  vol.  XXXIX,  p.  61-74.  December,  1914. 

Illustrated  Record  of  the  Exposition.  By  Louis  C.  Mullgardt  and  A.  Stirling  Calder. 

Paul  Elder  and  Company,  San  Francisco,  1915. 

Ito,  B.  The  Japanese  Garden  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  The  Architect  and 
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[196] 


BIBLIOGRAPHY— Continued 


James,  Juliet.  Palaces  and  Courts  of  the  Exposition.  California  Book  Company,  San 
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James,  Juliet.  Sculpture  of  the  Exposition  Palaces  and  Courts.  San  Francisco, 
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Japan  and  Her  Exhibits  at  the  Panama-Pacific  International  Exhibition,  1915. 
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Jules  Guerin,  Director  of  Colour,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  The  Century  Magazine, 
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Knaufft,  Ernest.  Architecture  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  Review  of  Reviews, 
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Laurvik,  J.  Nilsen.  Notes  on  the  Foreign  Paintings  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition. 
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Macomber,  Ben.  The  Jewel  City.  J.  H.  Williams,  San  Francisco,  1915. 

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Maybeck,  Bernard  R.  The  Palace  of  Fine  Arts  and  Lagoon.  With  Introduction  by 
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McCullagh,  Minne  Althea.  The  Jewel  City.  With  Decorations  by  Pedro  J.  Lemos. 
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Merrill,  Mollie  Slater.  Gullible’s  Travels  through  the  P.\n.\ma-P.\cific  Inter- 
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Mitchell,  W.  Garden.  An  Architect’s  Impressions  of  a Wonderful  Exposition.  The  Archi- 
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Mullgardt,  Louis  C.  The  Architecture  and  Landscape  Gardening  of  the  Exposition. 
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Mullgardt,  Louis  C.  The  Panama-Pacific  Exposition  at  San  Francisco.  The  Architec- 
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Murphy,  J.  C.  San  Diego’s  Evolutionary  Exposition.  Collier’s,  vol.  LIV,  p.  20-2. 
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Neuhaus,  Eugen.  Sculpture  and  Mural  Decorations  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition. 
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[197] 


BIBLIOGRAPHY— Continued 


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Official  Miniature  View  Book  of  the  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition. 
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Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition  at  San  Francisco,  1915.  Official  Publi- 
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Price,  C.  Matlack.  The  Panama-California  Exposition,  San  Diego.  The  Architectural 
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[198] 


BIBLIOGRAPHY— Continued 


Taylor,  Edward  Robeson.  In  the  Court  of  the  Ages.  Poems  in  Commemoration  of  the 
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Taylor,  H.  A.  Camera-work  at  the  Panama-California  Exposition.  Photo  Era,  vol. 
XXXIV,  p.  267-70.  June,  1915. 

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Viewing  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition  as  a Work  of  Art.  Current  Opinion,  vol.  LIV, 
p.  50-1.  July,  1915. 

Watson,  Mark  S.  Fine  Arts  at  the  San  Diego  Exposition.  Art  and  Progress,  vol.  VI, 
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Watson,  Mark  S.  Permanent  Buildings  at  the  San  Diego  Exposition.  The  Architect 
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Williams,  Cora  L.  Fourth  Dimensional  Reaches  of  the  Exposition.  Paul  Elder  and 
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Williams,  Jesse  Lynch.  The  Colour  Scheme  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  Scribner’s 
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Williams,  Michael.  A Brief  Guide  to  the  Department  of  Fine  Arts,  Panama-Pacific 
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Williams,  Michael.  A Pageant  of  American  Art.  Art  and  Progress,  vol.  VI,  p.  337-53. 
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Williams,  Michael.  Arts  and  Crafts  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  Art  and  Progress, 
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Williams,  Michael.  Western  Art  at  the  Exposition.  Sunset,  The  Pacific  Monthly,  vol. 
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Woehlke,  Walter  V.  Nueva  Espana  by  the  Silver  Gate.  Sunset,  The  Pacific  Monthly, 
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Woollet,  William  L.  Colour  in  Architecture  at  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition.  The  Archi- 
tectural Record,  vol.  XXXVII,  p.  437-44.  May,  1915. 


[199] 


INDEX  OF  ARTISTS 


Abbey,  Edwin  Austin  .... 

Page 

92 

Aitken,  Robert  Ingersoll 

49 

Alice,  Antonio 

181 

Allegri,  Antonio  (11  Correggio) 

15 

Allen,  Frank  P.,  Jr 

32 

Bakewell,  John,  Jr 

45 

Balsgaard,  C.  V 

146 

Bartholome,  Albert  .... 

80 

Batthyanyi  Gyula 

145 

Bauer,  Marius  Alexander  Jacques 

. 138 

Beal,  Gifford 

. 121 

Beaux,  Cecilia 

107 

Bellows,  George  Wesley 

97,  127 

Benson,  Frank  Weston 

16 

Bergman,  Oskar 

142 

Bermudez,  Jorge 

178,  181 

Bernard,  Joseph 

.69,  80 

Besnard,  Paul-Albert  . 15, 

173,  174 

Bilbao,  Gonzalo 

177 

Bistolfi,  Leonardo 

78 

Blanche,  Jacques-Emile 

174 

Blommers,  Bernardus  Johannes  . 

. 137 

Boberg,  Anna 

142 

Boccioni,  Umberto  .... 

20 

Bocklin,  Arnold 

87 

Boggio,  Pompeo 

. 178 

Bosboom,  Johannes  .... 

137 

Bourdelle,  Emile-Antoine 

80 

Bracquemond,  Felix  .... 

18 

Brangwyn,  Frank  ....  47,  48,  51 

Breitner,  George  Hendrik 

137 

Brown,  Arthur,  Jr 

45 

Bruguiere,  Francis 

30,  33 

Buonarroti,  Michelangelo 

68 

Burroughs,  Edith  Woodman  . 

44 

Canova,  Antonio 

68,  77 

Carles,  Arthur  B.  . 

86,  97 

Carriere,  Eugene 

173 

C assatt,  Mary 

16 

Cazin,  Jean-Charles  .... 

. 173 

Cezanne,  Paul  ....  18,19,20,173 

Chase,  AYilliam  Merritt 

92 

Page 

Christensen,  Godfred  . 

146 

Ciardi,  Emma 

176 

Cinotti,  Guido 

176 

Claus,  Emile 

16 

Clausen,  George  .... 
Clodion  (see  Michel) 

16 

Collett,  Fredrik  .... 

146 

Columbano,  Bordalo  Pinheiro 
Correggio  (see  Allegri) 

177 

Cottet,  Charles  .... 

. 174, 

179 

Courbet,  Gustave  .... 

14,  18,  19 

Cram,  Ralph  Adams 

30 

Csaky  Jozsef 

150 

Csok  1st  van 

150 

Czobel  Bela 

150 

Dalou,  Jules 

80 

Dauchez,  Andre  .... 

174 

David,  Jacques-Louis  . 

14 

Davies,  Arthur  B 

25 

Dazzi,  Arturo 

78 

Dearth,  Henry  Golden 

*25 

Degas,  Hilaire  Germain-Edgar 

15,  19, 

173 

Delacroix,  Ferdinand  Victor-Eugene 

14 

Denis,  Maurice  .... 

20,  174, 

185 

Dodge,  AA’illiam  De  Leftwich  . 

16,  47 

,48 

Dove,  Arthur 

25 

Duveneck,  Frank  .... 

92,  96 

, 99 

Edstrom,  David  .... 

80,  83 

Exner,  Johan  Julius 

146 

Falconet,  Etienne-Maurice 

68 

Falguiere,  Jean  Alexandre-Joseph 

80 

Fantin-Latour,  Ignace  Henri 

Jean- 

Theodore 

173 

Fechin,  Nikolai  ... 

12 

Fenyes  Adolf  ... 

150 

Ferenczy  Karoly  ... 

150 

Ferguson,  Frank  W.  . 

30 

Ferrari,  Ettore 

80 

Fjaestad,  Gustav  Adolf 

. 142, 

161 

Fornara,  Carlo 

176 

Fo.ster,  Ben 

119 

[201] 


INDEX  OF  ARTISTS— Continued 


Page 

Fragonard,  Jean-Honore  ....  14 

Fraser,  James  Earle 47,  66 

Frazee,  John 68 

Frieseke,  Frederic  Carl  25,95,97,  111 
Fry,  Sherry  Edmundson  ....  42 

Gallen-Kallela,  Axel 149 

Gauguin,  Eugene  Henri-Paul  19,  20,  25,173 

Gauguin,  Pola 145 

Gleizes,  Albert 22 

Gogh,  Vincent  van  . 20,  187 

Goodhue,  Bertram  G 30,  32,  35 

Gorter,  Arnold  Marc  ....  137,  153 
Goya  y Lucientes,  Francisco  Jose  de  14 

Grafly,  Charles 72 

Greenough,  Horatio 71 

Griffin,  Walter 97 

Guerin,  Jules 44 

Guillemet,  Jean-Baptiste  Antoine  . 173 

Hammer,  H.  J 146 

Hammer,  William 146 

Hansen,  Heinrich 146 

Harrison,  Thomas  Alexander  16 

Hartley,  Marsden 25 

Hassam,  Childe  . 16,  48,  92,  97 

Henri- Matisse 20,21 

Hitchcock,  George 16 

Hobbema,  Meindert 137 

Hollosy  Simon  150 

Hohnboe,  Thorolf 169 

Hooch,  Pieter  de 137 

Homer,  Winslow  ....  91,92,95 

Ingres,  Jean  Auguste-Dominique  19 

Innocent!,  Camillo  ....  136,  176 

Israels,  Isaac 137 

Israels,  Jozef 137 

Ivanyi-Griinwald  Bela  ....  150 

Javor,  Pal 151 

Josephson,  Ernst 141 

Kent,  Rockwell 131 

Kesmarky  Arpad  de 150 

Kobke,  Christen  Schjellerup  . 146 

Korody  E.  de 150 

Krohg,  Christian 142 

Krbyer,  Peter  Severin  ....  16,  146 

Kyhn,  Peter  Vilhelm  Karl  146 

La  Farge,  John 92 

La  Touche,  Gaston 15 


Page 

Lagos,  Alberto 83,  178 

Larsson,  Carl 141,  155 

Le  Sidaner,  Henri-Eugene  174 

Leger,  Fernand 22 

Legros,  Alphonse 173 

Leibl,  Wilhelm 96 

Lenbach,  Franz  von 96 

Lentelli,  Leo 77 

Lever,  Hayley 97,  113 

Lie,  Jonas 97,  117 

Liebermann,  Max 15 

Liljefors,  Bruno  Andreas  . . 141,  142 

Lionne,  Enrico 176 

Lund,  Henrik 145 

Luppi,  Ermenegildo  ....  78,  79 

Maillol,  Ai’istide 80 

Malhoa,  Jose 177,  191 

Mancini,  Antonio 176,  183 

Manet,  Edouard  . 14, 15, 18,  19,  150,  173 

Manship,  Paul 44,  50 

Maris,  Jacobus  Hendrikus  137 

Maris,  Matthijs 137 

Maris,  Willem 137 

Marstrand,  Wilhelm  Nikolai  . 146 

Marquet,  Albert 177 

Mastenbroek,  Johan  Hendrik  van  137,  138 

Maurer,  Alfred  H 25 

Mauve,  Anton 137 

Maybeck,  Bernard  R 47 

Meifren,  Eliseo 177 

Melchers,  Julius  Garibaldi  16,  92, 103 

Mentessi,  Giuseppe 176 

Mercie,  Marius  Jean-Antonin  80 

Metcalf,  Willard  Leroy  . 16,  97 

Meunier,  Constantin  . . 47,  83 

Michel,  Claude  (Clodion)  ...  86 

Michelangelo  (see  Buonarroti) 

IMillet,  Jean-Frangois 14 

Monet,  Claude-Oscar 15,  16 

Morisot,  Berthe  Marie  Pauline  173 

Morris,  William 88 

Moreau,  Gustave 173 

Morelli,  Domenico 175 

Mullgardt,  Louis  C 51 

Munch,  Edvard 142, 147 

Navarro,  Juan  Carlos  Oliva  83,  181 

Nicolini,  Giovanni 78 

Nisbet,  Robert  H 123 


[202] 


INDEX  OF  ARTISTS— Continued 


Nittis,  Giuseppe  de 

Page 

. . . 173 

Nordstrom,  Karl 

. . . 141 

Osslund,  Helmer 

. . . 142 

Ottesen,  Otto  Didrik  . 

. . . 146 

Paddock,  Josephine 

. . . 125 

Panozzi,  Americo  . 

. . . 178 

Parker,  Lawton  S.  . 

. . . 105 

Perlmutter  Izsak  . 

. . . 150 

Petersen,  Edvard  . 

. . . 146 

Picabia,  Francis 

20,  22,  23,  26 

Picasso,  Pablo  .... 

20,  22,  25,' 26 

Piccirilli,  Attilio 

. . . 71 

Piloty,  Carl  Theodor  von 

. . . 96 

Powers,  Hiram  .... 

. . . 71 

Previati,  Gaetano  . 

. . . 176 

Priestman,  Bertram 

. . . 16 

Prudhon,  Pierre 

. . . 19 

Putnam,  Arthur 

. . . 44 

Putz,  Leo 

. . . 159 

Puvis  de  Chavannes,  Pierre-Cecile  . 173 

Quillivic,  Rene  .... 

. . 80,  81 

Ramponi,  Ferdinando  . 

. . . 176 

Redfield,  Edward  Willis 

. . 92,  97 

Reid,  Robert  .... 

. . 16,  48 

Renoir,  Pierre-Auguste 

. . 15,  173 

Reth  Alfred  .... 

. . . 150 

Reti  Istvan  .... 

. . . 150 

Rippl-Ronai  Jozsef 

. . 150,  163 

Robinson,  Alexander  . 

. . . 133 

Robinson,  Theodore 

16,  85,  92,  96 

Rodin,  Auguste 

47,  78,  80 

Roed,  Jorgen  .... 

. . . 146 

Roll,  Alfred-Philippe 

. . . 174 

Romanach,  Leopoldo  . 

. . . 181 

Rose,  Manuel  .... 

. . 181,  193 

Rubens,  Petrus  Paulus 

. . . 15 

Ruisdael,  Jacob  Isaacksz.  van  . 137 

Rush,  William  .... 

. . . 68 

Rusinol,  Santiago  . 

15 

Russolo,  Luigi  .... 

. . . 20 

Rysselberghe,  Theodore  van 

. . . 16 

St.  Lerche,  Hans 

. . . 83 

Sargent,  John  Singer  . 

. 89,  92,  101 

Schultzberg,  Anshelm  . 

141,  142,  157 

Segantini,  Giovanni 

. 15,  175,  176 

Selgado  (see  Veloso) 

Page 

Severini,  Gino  .... 

. . . 20 

Signac,  Paul  .... 

. . . 174 

Simmons,  Edward  . 

. . 16,  48 

Simon,  Lucien  .... 

. . 174,  189 

Sivori,  Eduardo 

. . . 181 

Sorolla  y Bastida,  Joaquin 

. . 15,  177 

Sousa-Lopes,  Adriano  de  . 

. . . 178 

Stackpole,  Ralph  W.  . 

. . . 72 

Steer,  Wilson  .... 

. . . 16 

Steichen,  Eduard  J. 

. . . 25 

Sterne,  Maurice 

. . . 25 

Strandberg,  Gabriel 

. . 142,  143 

Stuck,  Franz  von  . 

. . . 165 

Szinyei  Merse  Pal  . 

. . . 149 

Tarbell,  Edmund  Charles 

16,  92,  97,  129 

Thaulow,  Frits  .... 

. . 16,  145 

Thorvaldsen,  Bertel 

. . 68,  77 

Tito,  Ettore  .... 

. . 172,  176 

Toulouse-Lautrec,  Henri  de 

. . 173,  174 

Troubetzkoy,  Paul 

. 75,  78,  83 

Tucker,  Allen  .... 

. . . 109 

Twachtman,  John  H.  . 

16,  92,  95,  115 

Vallotton,  Felix 

. . 174,  175 

Vaszary  Janos  .... 

. . . 149 

Vedani,  Michelo 

. . . 80 

Velazquez,  Diego  Rodriguez  de  Silva  15 

Veloso  Salgado,  Jose  . 

. . 177,  178 

Vonnoh,  Robert  W. 

. . . 97 

Watts,  George  Frederick  . 

. . . 177 

Weber,  Max  .... 

. . . 25 

Weir,  Julian  Alden 

. . 16,  92 

Weissenbruch,  Hendrik  Johannes  137 

Werenskiold,  Dagfin 

. . 73,  83 

Whistler,  James  Abbott  McNeill 

18,  19, 

27,  92,  93,  137 

Willumsen,  Jens  Ferdinand 

. . . 146 

Witsen,  Willem 

137,  138,  139 

Wolter,  Hendrik  Jan  . 

. . . 138 

Wright,  Patience  Lovell 

. . . 77 

Wyk,  Charles  van  . 

. . . 83 

Zanon,  Carlo  .... 

. . . 176 

Zorn,  Anders  Leonard 

. . . 141 

Zubiaurre,  Ramon  de  . 

. . . 177 

Zubiaurre,  Valentin  de 

. . . 177 

Ziigel,  Heinrich  von 

. . . 167 

[203] 


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